


The Distance Between Us

by Percyjacksonfan3



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Everyone else knows, M/M, and bilbo is too self-deprecating to realize them until it's too late, as in they end up together, but there is a happy ending, cause they're not blind or stupid, it's not really a fix-it, thorin's a scaredy cat who can't admit feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 19:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percyjacksonfan3/pseuds/Percyjacksonfan3
Summary: Bilbo and Thorin's thoughts throughout the events of the Hobbit and after, along with a few moments between them I've written myself. It's not quite a fix-it but they end up together so close enough.





	The Distance Between Us

On the night that Bilbo Baggins is asked to be a burglar he gets one quiet moment alone with Thorin Oakenshield, predestined King Under the Mountain.

It is after the dwarves have raided his kitchen. It is after Gandalf proclaims that Bilbo is to be their burglar on their mad quest for their homeland. It is after he has fainted and Gandalf has given him a talking to that he is sure Thorin overheard. It is near the end of the night and Bilbo wonders, slightly alarmed, whether the dwarves are expecting him to find them places to sleep. He only has so much floor space.

Everyone has moved around the table, changing seats like a game of musical chairs. The dwarves talk excitedly to one another, catching up after years of travel and being apart. Some are asking questions (the young nephews) others patiently answering (the old white-haired one who’s name Bilbo is almost sure is Balin) and the rest are seeming to be in a drinking contest to see who’s last to fall under the table out of their chairs. Only five of them remain.

There is also Gandalf, watching them all with approving eyes, and Bilbo keeps sending him frowns, hoping to make his unhappiness with the situation clear. The wizard only raises an eyebrow and takes a puff from his pipe, unimpressed. Bilbo gives up trying to silently chastise the wizard. Gandalf seems immune to it all.

Thorin is the only dwarf who is nearly silent. He has somehow ended up beside Bilbo, and when the hobbit isn’t glaring at Gandalf he is studiously avoiding the dark-haired dwarf’s gaze. It makes his skin prickle just from the weight of it and Bilbo somehow feels see-through even though he’s dressed perfectly respectably considering he hadn’t been expecting guests tonight. He’d even found time to shed his night robe, thank you very much.

Finally, Thorin appears to deem him worthy of addressing directly and Bilbo doesn’t know whether to be insulted, proud or terrified.

“Do you not have loved ones to stay home for, Mr. Burglar? To stop you from coming on this journey?”

His voice is deep, a rough timbre like metal against rock. Or gravel stones scraping against one another. Hearing him sing earlier had been mesmerizing and Bilbo admits- only to himself, mind you- that while he’d hidden away he had allowed his eyes to fall closed and the music to pour over him.

Bilbo wonders if all dwarves sing that way, with such a weighted emotion it is impossible to ignore. Such pain. The rough and low growl had made Bilbo instantly snap to attention, the mourning in it impossible to ignore. There is a powerful note in it as well though, making Bilbo think of hammered metal.

That doesn’t even make sense, Bilbo scolded himself. Thorin is a prince, soon-to-be-king. Not a weapons maker. Not a blacksmith.

(He is wrong, but he finds this out later.)

The hobbit clears his throat to answer the question. “Oh, erm, no, actually. Not yet anyway. I have a couple of questionable cousins, but we’re not that close really. They’re a bit barmy for me.”

He smiles, trying to be pleasant, but it is met with calculating dark eyes overset by a dark brow. Thorin, Bilbo decides, just has a hostile resting face.

The dwarf takes a drink from his cup, ignoring the sudden roar of laughter that comes from his comrades. Neither him nor Bilbo looks away from each other, Bilbo too terrified and Thorin unconcerned with what is happening a few feet away. “I thought hobbits very family-centered creatures.” The sentence would have sounded like an inquiry if it wasn’t dripping in disdain. “The few I spoke to earlier seemed very… soft.”

Bilbo purses his lips, unwilling to admit he was slightly offended by Thorin’s manner. He really didn’t think he had done anything to deserve such rudeness, especially since he’d been bombarded to host over a dozen strangers and Gandalf, all while agreeing to contemplate being their burglar, possibly confront a dragon and go on what was likely a suicidal quest.

And he couldn’t say that he was impressed with the way Thorin talked about hobbits. They might not be as adventurous as men, or as brave as dwarves or passionate as elves, but hobbits had their virtues, thank you very much. There was a lot of good to be found in the Shire, Bilbo could attest to it.

“Some more than others. Much like dwarves I imagine.” He says and has to grin in silent victory when Thorin falls quiet, both of them glancing to Fíli and Kíli who have their arms around each other and are shaking in laughter at some joke made by the miner with the funny hat sitting across from them.

From what Bilbo has made out, most if not all of these dwarves seem to be related to others in their party. There are all either brothers or distant cousins, Thorin is uncle to Kíli and Fíli and from there Bilbo has lost track. They are all close and have a long history, that is plain to see.

But Thorin sits apart, despite the relations.

Some more family-centered than others indeed.

“I-“ Thorin pauses, looking like he was trying to gather his thoughts and Bilbo watched him closely. Out of all of his surprise guests tonight, Thorin was hardest to read. When he wasn’t on guard Bilbo suspected Thorin was probably decent to be around. You didn’t amass a following like this group if you didn’t have some outstanding qualities, even if you were all related.

He wondered what Thorin was usually like, what those qualities could be. It was a pity Bilbo was unlikely to ever see them.

“I suppose that’s true.” Thorin finally said.

They fell into an awkward silence, with Bilbo wondering why Gandalf had ever thought to choose him for this ridiculous quest led by a dwarf who obviously already despised him.

“Would you like some more to eat?” Bilbo asked Thorin, desperate to break the silence and making the dwarf look at him with new curiosity in his eyes. Food was always a good distraction, and it was well past supper now.

“No.” Thorin said decidedly, and a few more seconds passed in awkward silence. “Thank you.” He hastily tacked on, to which Bilbo nodded. At least one of the visitors had thanked him tonight, even if it was reluctant.

“I’ll take something else, please, Mr. Bilbo.” The one named Bombur called, somehow having heard all the way from the other end of the table. The rest of the dwarves who were still at least semi-conscious all called out in agreement, asking for more drink as well.

Bilbo hurried away as quickly as he could, internally wondering what he could possibly have left that would satisfy Bombur. His cupboards had been near cleaned out and that dwarf ate more than any creature Bilbo had ever seen. Which was saying something given a few of his relatives.

When he was making his way back with what felt like a mountain of food in his arms (and that was it, truly, there was no more) and drink pitchers dangling by his fingertips he stopped just before coming into the dwarves’ view.

“Are you really sure about him, Gandalf? He seems a bit timid.” One of them said. It sounded like, what-was-his-name? Glóin.

“Absolutely sure.” Gandalf replied at once. “Tonight only proves it. Now stop repeating yourselves or I shall have to lose my temper.”

“Gandalf, he’s never gone on any quest like this before.”

“My dear Balin, there has never been a quest like this before.” Gandalf said with a chuckle. “I suspect this is a first for all of us seated at this table.”

There were mutters at that. Bilbo’s arms began to strain from the weight of holding everything while standing still but he wanted to wait to hear any other protests. Maybe he could use some of their arguments to get out of this adventure.

“What has he burgled in the past?” Dori asked.

“He already said he wasn’t a burglar!” Ori reminded them all quietly.

“Nothing as precious as your jewel.” Gandalf spoke seriously. “But when I say he is up to the task, I mean it. Nothing has changed my mind so far. I would not pick someone just for the fun of it, my friends. There was some considerable thought put into my decision, you know.”

“We know, Gandalf.” It was Kíli or Fíli who spoke now. Bilbo wasn’t sure which. “We appreciate it.”

“Yes, thank you.” Said the other.

“He’s already seen the paper. We’ll be leaving it with him.” Dwalin said. “There’s nothing for us to do now but wait and see if he shows up.”

Bilbo’s muscles were actually beginning to twitch now. He could feel them spasming and took a deep breath.

“Thorin, do you really think it’s smart to bring him? The poor lad’s going to end up killed.”

Bilbo didn’t know who said that but the voice was so earnest he couldn’t help but feel thankful at the concern. The words however made cold wash over him, like ice water pouring from above his head as he waited for an answer. Before everyone had been joking and teasing him when speaking about the quest and funeral arrangements, but now the dwarves sound deadly serious.

This was a foolhardy adventure they were going on, Bilbo was sure of it. And somehow he’d ended up being included.

“If Gandalf says he can do it then I believe he can. As Dwalin said, all that we can do is wait.”

Bilbo decided he couldn’t take it anymore and rounded the corner to the room they were sitting in. “Wait for what?” He asked, feigning innocence as all eyes turned to him. Thorin’s looked particularly suspicious, but it could have been Bilbo’s imagination.

“For all of that delicious food!” Bombur exclaimed, making the others laugh and begin teasing him about his enormous belly and insatiable appetite. Bilbo though that was a bit rich considering they had all eaten almost as much as the red-headed dwarf that evening. Not to mention the ale that they’d put away.

He slid back into his seat, watching as all of the dwarves dug in hungrily, acting as if they hadn’t already had a five-course meal tonight. Thorin sat beside him, watching just as quietly.

“Feast your eyes, Master Burglar.” He said, never looking away from the others, pride shining in his eyes. “History is being made in your home tonight.”

Bilbo thought of all the talk of dragons, gold under the mountain and long-dead kingdoms.

Yes, he thought. It certainly is.

oooOOOooo

When he comes running up to the Company the next morning he is met with looks of shock from almost all of the dwarves and a knowing smile from Gandalf. Balin’s wink is encouraging as he hands over the contract, where his name is signed with a flourish at the bottom.

It is only because Bilbo is actively watching Thorin that he notices the look of surprise and grudging approval cross the dwarves face. Quickly fading into an unreadable expression, Thorin’s only verbal response to Bilbo’s appearance is, “Give him a pony.”

And that is that. Bilbo Baggins is a part of Thorin Oakenshield’s Company.

oooOOOooo

Bilbo can admit that out of all of Thorin’s scowls and disapproving looks, this one, at least, was warranted.

Being held up between two trolls was not the most enjoyable of places, and Bilbo, silly Bilbo, had gotten all of the dwarves stuck in this nasty business. He’d gotten himself stuck and his limbs were starting to hurt since the trolls didn’t seem to care about the fact that sometimes limbs just aren’t supposed to be pulled from the body.

And as he watched, meeting Thorin’s glower with what he hoped was an apologetic look, he saw the dwarf lower his weapon, signalling for the rest of the company to do the same.

All so that the trolls wouldn’t rip Bilbo apart. A flare of surprise quickly followed by warmth went through him as they were all stuffed into large potato sacks.

Laying in bags on the ground and watching half of their party being spun on a rotisserie, Bilbo knew he had to do something. If only to stop Thorin from glaring daggers into the back of his head.

He had gotten them into this after all.

“Not yer fault, laddie.” Balin comforted him quietly, obviously seeing the look on his face, but Bilbo just shook his head.

It was. If he had just untied the ponies… he could have tried a little longer. Impatient hobbit that he was, he’d had to try and go straight for a troll knife. 

The trolls really weren’t the brightest of creatures, Bilbo acknowledged as he got up and began stammering out answers to their questions, trying to stall for daylight. Giving away their own weakness was a questionable decision, even with all of them tied up and useless.

Although he supposed after letting slip that dwarves were better eaten skinned, right now wasn’t exactly his finest moment either.

It’s amidst the dwarves’ insults of parasites and yells of betrayal that he looks back. Just for a second, but it’s enough to meet Thorin’s eyes. He tries to widen his own, jerking his head slightly, hoping beyond hope that for once he and Thorin will be able to understand one another.

Miraculously it works. The hobbit hears a kick after he looks back at the trolls to smile sweetly, and the dwarves go quiet before seeming to catch on to what Bilbo’s trying to do. He hears Kíli calling out, “I’ve got the biggest parasites!” and is relieved to know they have a few more seconds at least.

It’s Gandalf that saves them in the end, but Bilbo can’t help but feel slightly proud of himself too. Even if it had been him to get them into that situation, at least it had also been him who’d gotten them out. With help, of course.

He notes, while helping the others regain their clothing, weapons and saddle the ponies, that Thorin and Gandalf stand off speaking to one another. When Thorin looks at him suddenly, eyes sharp, he quickly looks away.

Thorin comes over anyway.

“That was foolish.”

Bilbo frowns and only glances up briefly at the gruff dwarf before going back to repacking his sack. “Which part?”

There is a huff and when Bilbo looks up he swears that the corners of Thorin’s mouth is upturned. “All of it.”

The hobbit nods and swallows, finally turning to Thorin. “I apologize. For endangering us that way.”

Thorin blinks in obvious surprise. Bilbo forges on.

“It was only right of me to try and help, seeing as I’m the reason we all almost became troll food.”

Thorin’s mouth twitches again. Bilbo can’t tell whether it’s in anger or humor. “Fíli and Kíli had a part to play as well. And your idea of help is an interesting one, Master Burglar. Advising them on the proper way to skin and eat us?” The dwarf’s eyes are intent on him but there’s something about the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that makes Bilbo think he isn’t actually angry. “Very considerate.”

“Erm, yes. Not my brightest idea.” Bilbo concedes smiling quickly in embarassment.

Thorin shakes his head, but Bilbo thinks it might be at his own thoughts rather than Bilbo’s words. “Are all hobbits so reckless?”

Bilbo thought to himself. “No, I’m a special case.” He admitted. “Must be the Took in me.”

Thorin gave him a strange look, but before he could reply they were interrupted.

“Thorin.” Dwalin called, giving Bilbo a less than friendly look as he came over to them. Bilbo supposed he wasn’t going to be forgiven for his poor stalling skills any time soon. Not by Dwalin at least. “We must move. We’ve lost enough time as it is.”

Thorin looked away from Bilbo to nod at his friend. “Aye, we should. Off then. Let us mount.”

“Wonderful.” Bilbo muttered to himself and he hears Thorin snort in laughter as the dwarf walks to his own pony.

The smile on Bilbo’s face lingers long after he’s finally back in his saddle.

oooOOOooo

Somehow Bilbo usually ends up near Thorin for the rest of the journey. He is either beside him or one dwarf away and (because of the proximity, of course) he finds himself watching the King.

For that is what he is to this Company, Bilbo knows. After hearing Balin’s story it is impossible to see Thorin as anything but his birthright. He is a king without a kingdom. It was taken from him, brutally taken, by Smaug and kept away by Azog and the other orcs.

The thought makes Bilbo sad. He can understand why Thorin acts the way he does now. Now that he knows the true history of what happened at the mountain, of the failed retaking of Moria, and has heard whispers and snippets of the other dwarves’ conversations, Bilbo thinks he is beginning to know Thorin.

And he catches a sadness in the dwarf’s eyes, when the others are asleep at night and Thorin is on watch. Bilbo finds himself glancing to him and wondering at what he has seen. Trying to understand how someone who has suffered so much can find the will to continue.

He can’t imagine a dragon ever coming to the Shire and taking Bag End from him. But if it happened he doubts he could have survived as Thorin has done.

It makes him curious and questions form on the tip of his tongue. But Thorin’s eyes are still shrouded with wariness and exasperation whenever he looks at Bilbo, so the hobbit keeps his mouth firmly shut.

It doesn’t halt all conversation of course. Bilbo speaks freely with the rest of the dwarves, who are curious about him and his people. The lifestyle of hobbits is foreign to them all. Among them, Bilbo realizes, he is the anomaly. It is not them who are the strange ones.  

“But what do you do all day in your little hobbit-hole?” Bofur asks as their ponies walk along and Bilbo smiles. Out of all of the dwarves Bofur is easiest to talk to. He seems to have accepted Bilbo more readily than the others at least, and has shown him nothing but kindness. For that, Bilbo is grateful.

“I read,” Bilbo offers as an answer finally while smoking on his pipe and making shaky smoke rings. “I write, sometimes. I’m quite a good poet and songwriter, though not the best singer. I sit in my armchair in front of my fire, with my books and food. I tend my garden.”

“Garden?” Dwalin scoffs as he passes. His face is wrinkled in disdain. “Bah.”

“We hobbits have a language of flowers.” Bilbo admits somewhat shyly after shooting the dwarf a half-hearted glare. He’s a bit uncomfortable with the subject, always has been, though he doesn’t know why. He supposes he’s never been the most openly affectionate hobbit around. “It’s a way we express affection. Love.” He clears his throat, shifting on the saddle to relieve the ache in his thighs. “Personal things.”

Ori is beside him and listening. “That sounds quite nice to me. Like our gems.”

“Ori!” Nori chastises, glancing at Bilbo and Gandalf. “That’s a dwarf-secret that is.”

“Oh!” Bilbo says. “Is there a similar practice in your culture?”

Thorin looks back at them finally, proving Bilbo’s suspicion that most, if not all, of the Company had been listening to him ramble. “Not one you need concern yourself with, Master Burglar.”

Bilbo meets his eyes and his mouth closes. He nods and Thorin turns ahead.

“Sorry, Bilbo.” Ori says quietly. “I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

Bilbo shrugs. “I’m sorry if I caused offense,” he replies a bit quieter, but he still sees Thorin’s shoulders tense ahead of them. “I didn’t realize it would be a secret.”

“We dwarves have many secrets, laddie.” Balin says comfortingly. “It’s just our way.”

“Do you never tire of them? I would think that difficult to overcome in relations to other races.”

Gandalf makes an oddly choked sound, as if holding back a laugh, and Thorin snaps at them. “Enough. We discuss other subjects.”

Ori shoots him an apologetic look and Bofur hurries ahead. Bilbo falls back to ride beside Gandalf, noticing that Thorin’s head is still slightly turned their way.

“Did I offend them again?” He asks the wizard worriedly. He’d thought he’d perfected navigating touchy subjects in their little party, but he supposes that’s not the case at all.

A secret language of gems, Bilbo muses, unable to help himself. That sounded interesting.

Gandalf shakes his head. “Dwarves have had limited contact with other races long before Smaug, Bilbo, and they guard their secrets closely. Before the mountain fell the races may have coexisted for peace but contact was restricted and never lasted. I suspect you are the first outside of their own kin to spend more than several days with them in ages.”

“And you, Gandalf.” Bilbo says and the wizard bows his head in acknowledgement.

“Yes.” He says with a small smile. “I suppose that’s true.”

oooOOOooo

The first night at Rivendell Bilbo finds himself with Thorin once more. Both of them have overhead Lord Elrond share his concerns over Thorin and the sickness of his family with Gandalf.

Bilbo turns to look at the dwarf in question who is standing slightly behind him. He’s seen the dwarves in moonlight before, but here under the moon at Rivendell, Thorin looks more like royalty than ever.

Thorin continues to watch where Gandalf and the elf disappeared, ignoring Bilbo’s gaze entirely as if he’s not even there.

Balin had told him of the dragon sickness, but it hadn’t been until this moment, hearing Lord Elrond worry over Thorin, that Bilbo wondered if Thorin could be in danger of it as well.

He leans his weight from foot to foot, unsure whether to break the awkward and tense silence or just leave. He desperately wants to leave, though something is keeping him there in place. The look on Thorin’s face might be it.

“Do you wish to speak, Master Burglar?” Thorin asks him finally, long after the previous speakers had left. His hair is freshly washed and braided, hanging around his face in a curtain. Bilbo, who had washed as soon as he’d been able, doubts he makes as striking of a figure as the dwarf in front of him.

Despite that, Bilbo doesn’t look away and he straightens his shoulders with what courage he has. “The gold under the mountain… It drove your grandfather mad.” He ponders out loud. “And you still wish to go back?”

Thorin meets his look for several seconds in silence and then lets out a heave of a sigh, looking up at the moon, letting it bathe his face. Bilbo is momentarily speechless, and he swallows dryly.

“I do not go back for the gold, Mr. Baggins.” Thorin says, and Bilbo blinks at the use of his name. Out of all of their company, Thorin is the only one who has never used his first name, despite Bilbo repeatedly telling him he could. After usually referring to him as Master Burglar even Mr. Baggins is a change.

“Then why?” Bilbo asks, not realizing he’s leaning forward in anticipation of the answer. “If you’ve been gone so long and made a life elsewhere… why go back?”

He can’t understand it. To risk a dragon’s wrath just to go to an abandoned cavern? When his people had settled down in other lands and mountains, what drew Thorin back there?

“Others forget the mountain.” Thorin answered him, turning around to meet his eyes. “But I cannot. It is my family’s birthright. The pride of our people lies there. The Arkenstone is not only the heart of the mountain, but of my people. If I cannot return to Erebor, if my people cannot return, then we will remain homeless no matter where we reside. We will remain lost.”

Bilbo could only watch him.

“You don’t understand.” Thorin bows his head and turns again, looking out over Rivendell. The river far below flows past, uncaring of the griefs of the world it lies in. Both Bilbo and Thorin ignore the sound of the rushing water. “This quest- it is meaningless to you. I hear your tone when you discuss your home. I see the looks you give us at times, the way you reach for your pocket handkerchief when it is not there. You wish to go home.”

Bilbo cannot deny it but he frowns at his own obviousness. He didn’t think anybody had noticed, but he supposes he was wrong.

Thorin turns around and meets Bilbo’s eyes once more. “Well, Master Burglar. So do I.”

The words are dripping with finality, a long ago accepted truth, and Bilbo nods, realizing the conversation is over. With a murmured goodnight he scurries quickly from the outcropping to go to his room.

oooOOOooo

It is when Bilbo is dangling off the edge of the cliff face that he realizes something.

Thorin watches out for every single person in this group of theirs. He protects them all, takes them under his care. Even Bilbo, who was supposed to be under Gandalf’s protection, not Thorin’s- yes, he’d heard a bit of arguing about that- was included in the list of people Thorin was watching and taking care of.

The King proves it by swinging down to dangle beside Bilbo and hoist him up into the arms of the other waiting and panicked dwarves, risking himself to do so.

But then he is glaring at Bilbo with anger in his eyes and telling everyone that Bilbo should never have come and Bilbo, despite just having been rescued and overcome with relief, is pierced with hurt. He cowers backwards, unable to help himself as he tries to shrink away from the words.

He’d thought- well. Never mind that he’d thought after Rivendell he and Thorin were getting along. Or that Thorin had actually- maybe not liked him, but accepted him at least.

“He’s been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come. He has no place amongst us.”

Apparently not.

Bilbo realizes that the words could have been the result of Thorin thinking he’d lost Fíli, Kíli and the others moments before. The outburst could be a result of shock and stress. But he knows it’s deeper than that. Thorin has used Bilbo’s admittance of missing home and taken it to heart. He is throwing the conversation they had in Rivendell back in Bilbo’s face.

Thorin doesn’t want him here. And Bilbo realized as he leaned panting against the stone before allowing Bofur to help him up, that he didn’t feel like he belonged there either. He’d already put the Company in danger with the trolls, he didn’t know how to fight and now he’d endangered Thorin’s life by being incompetent with his own.

He should never have left the Shire.

They continue on, Bilbo quietly taking in Thorin’s words, turning them over again and again. A few of the dwarves try to speak to him, to reassure him of Thorin’s temper and that he didn’t mean what he said, but Bilbo knew better. He ignored them, only nodding slightly, and they stopped quickly, casting unsure looks between themselves.

Thorin believed what he said. His words may have been cruel in his anger but they were not dishonest. Bilbo did not belong. He had practically admitted as much to the dwarf at Rivendell.

It was not easy to be in the Company of somebody who hated you. Which was why Bilbo made up his mind.

As the dwarves settled down around him to rest, he checked his pack. Seeing that everything was there he nodded to himself and lay down.

He would leave. Slip out as soon as everybody was asleep.

It almost worked too. If Bofur hadn’t noticed him he could have left, the dwarves would have fallen to the goblins and he would have been none the wiser.

It did not work.

Bofur did notice him, and Bilbo tried to keep the hurt and pain out of his voice as he explained why he was leaving. Thorin’s words shouldn’t be able to cut him so deeply. Bilbo was being dramatic and foolish, he supposed, but he couldn’t deny that Thorin’s mistrust of him, his obvious disdain, made Bilbo want the comfort of home more sharply than even the trolls had.

He had been hurtling towards this point for a while now, anyway. His homesickness was a constant presence in his mind. Bilbo had been keeping himself apart from the Company and it was plain to see since even now, after several months, he’d formed no real and lasting connections with any of them.

It was well past time he went home.

Bilbo didn’t notice Thorin watching him and Bofur, which meant he didn’t see the flickers of regret and uncertainty that shone in the dwarf’s eyes. None but Thorin were to know that he watched the hobbit and therefore saw the defeated slump of Bilbo’s shoulders, the wary way he looked around at all of them. Thorin thought that if he had acted differently perhaps Bilbo would not want to leave so desperately.

He did not acknowledge that there was a part of himself, a very large part, that did not want Bilbo to go. And not only because Bilbo’s disappearance would disappoint Gandalf and leave them without a burglar.

Of course, Bilbo didn’t get the chance to leave because they were accosted by goblins. Then he was stealing a ring and outsmarting Gollum. By the time Bilbo was finally able to catch his breath he was outside listening to his companions wonder where he had disappeared.

Had none of them even noticed he was gone, he thought viciously to himself? Self-pity filled him, and he had to blink at the sudden wounded pride that consumed him. All that time and nobody had thought of him?

Every single one of them was looking around and Bilbo felt his stomach sink. No. They hadn’t noticed.

Member of the Company, he thought with his stomach twisting uncomfortably. He swallowed. If it hadn’t been obvious how much he didn’t belong there before, it definitely was now.

The ring glinted sharply on his finger as his hands clenched.

“I think I noticed him slip away when they first cornered us.” Nori piped up.

Bilbo looked back up at them all, saw Thorin’s eyes narrow at Nori’s words.

“I’ll tell you what happened.” Thorin said, interrupting whatever Gandalf had been about to say. “Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it. He’s thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm house since he first stepped out of his door.”

Bilbo turned to sag against a tree, closing his eyes as he tipped his head back in defeat. He needed to catch his breath, but more than that, he couldn’t watch as Thorin finally made it plain to everyone just what he thought of Bilbo.

The worst thing was that it was a valid conclusion to come to. Bilbo had been about to slip away and leave after all.

Did the rest of the Company really believe Bilbo would have left them all there? Had none of them accepted him as a part of their group?

He swallowed, pushing down the hurt once more.

“We will not be seeing our hobbit again.” Thorin rumbled. “He is long gone.”

There was silence from the rest; even Gandalf didn’t seem to have anything to say to deny Thorin’s words.

Bilbo looked down at the ground, catching his breath. He saw a leaf laying innocently on the ground and it reminded him of Bag-End. Of his home and its warmth, its comfort. He wanted it back desperately.

But then he thought of Thorin’s words at Rivendell. The dwarves were on a quest so they could get back home too. So that they could no longer feel lost, as Bilbo did in that second.

And so, weeks after Bilbo had run out of the Shire to join the Company, he finally made his decision. He truly decided.

He was a part of this Company and he would not leave them.

He would suffer Thorin’s anger and dislike. He could bear that. But some of those dwarves had been kind to him and he heard their longing when speaking of Erebor. Bilbo would see them go home, if he could.

(He also didn’t want to disappoint Gandalf.)

“No.” He’d taken off the ring before stepping out from behind the tree, into their line of sight. “He isn’t.”

He glances at Thorin, who’s face was nothing but surprised, before looking around at the others. Hearing their relieved sighs and seeing Bofur smile and Gandalf come towards him happily only made Bilbo more confident in his decision. Balin patted him on the shoulder, nodding at him when Bilbo glanced down, and Kíli breathed out in relief. “Bilbo. We’d given you up!”

He could suffer Thorin’s hatred. He could do that. Because the rest of these dwarves… they did not hate him. They were his friends. He saw that, in the relief in their eyes. His thoughts from before were unwarranted and wrong.

“How did you get past the goblins?” Fíli asked and as Bilbo turned he saw suspicion written plain on Dwalin’s face.

“How indeed?” The dwarf asked slowly.

Thorin was watching him closely as well, that ever-present guard in his eyes, hiding whatever he was truly feeling.

Bilbo kept looking at everybody around him, but his gaze was continually drawn back to Thorin. Despite him wanting to look away, to face someone with a smile on their face instead of suspicion, he couldn’t seem to do it.

He laughed nervously, pocketing the ring, and Gandalf, bless him, interrupted before he was forced to say anything.

“Well what does it matter?” The wizard asked them all, and Bilbo relaxed as that seemed to be the end of it.

Thorin was not so easily distracted though. “It matters. I want to know.” His eyes were searching and there was suddenly something very vulnerable and young in Thorin. He was trying to find an answer. Trying to understand the riddle that was Bilbo.

Bilbo did not look away. He felt a pang at the suspicion in Thorin’s eyes. Was the dwarf really so used to people turning away and leaving him to think Bilbo was doing this for some devious motive? Was Thorin really so used to betrayal and abandonment?

“Why did you come back?” Thorin’s voice grew quieter, but all the more serious, and he had eyes for Bilbo alone. Bilbo returned the look.

Why did he come back? Thorin wanted to know why?

Well, Bilbo would tell him.

“I know you doubt me,” he started shakily, unsure of what he himself was about to say. “I- I know you always have. And you’re right, I often think of Bag-End. I miss my books, and my armchair, and my garden.” Bilbo said, seeing Thorin’s eyes flicker and knowing he was repeating words the dwarves had heard many times. (It was a very impressive garden. He’d won awards for the produce that came from that garden and it bore repeating a few times in Bilbo’s opinion. His armchair was also extremely comfortable.) He gestured vaguely, never looking away from Thorin, who had raised his head to face him again directly, taking in Bilbo’s every movement. “See that’s where I belong. That’s home. And that’s why I came back, because-“ He looked away, glancing at the others. “-you don’t have one. A home. It was taken from you.” When he met Thorin’s eyes again as he continued speaking he was trying to make him understand. Trying to make him see that this time, _this_ _time_ , Bilbo meant what he said. He was a part of this Company. He belonged. Even if it was only for a little while until they succeeded.

Despite everything, he wanted to help Thorin. He’d seen what the dwarf tried to hide from everyone else, the open wound that hurt him every time someone mentioned Smaug or Erebor. Bilbo saw that, and he wanted to help. Nobody deserved to be without a home.

So, he met Thorin’s stare unwaveringly, seeing the growing understanding there, the appreciation.

“But I will help you take it back if I can,” Bilbo tells him, this time speaking to Thorin alone. Something almost tender is in those blue eyes and Bilbo blinks in surprise at the depth of the emotion.

The King looked down, thinking quietly, before glancing up and giving the slightest most imperceptible nod.

Bilbo would take it.

He sees the others, notices that some even have tears in their eyes and he blinks. He hadn’t meant- oh, blast, he hadn’t wanted to make them cry!

Of course, it’s a moment later when the orcs come chasing after them. It would appear that this group of dwarves, hobbit and wizard did not get much time for reflection and feelings.

They ran as fast as they could because their lives depended on it and there was no other choice. Eventually they came to a cliff and had to scramble as fast as they could up the trees. From there Gandalf threw firelit pinecones as Azog was revealed and Bilbo saw Thorin’s eyes widen in disbelief and fear. He could somehow hear the dwarf’s whispered “ _no_ ” despite being on a different tree and surrounded by screaming wargs, dwarves and crackling fire.

When the trees began to collapse under the wargs’ weight it was all Bilbo could do to jump and jump again, until finally they had all reached Gandalf’s tree. If Bilbo had jumped again he would have been jumping right off of the cliff.

Thorin landed in a branch just above him and just as he did, the tree began to fall.

Bilbo screamed along with the dwarves and his stomach swooped at the sudden loss of gravity. He met Thorin’s eyes and saw a deep and paralyzing fear and sorrow.

They had failed. They were going to die.

Thorin and Bilbo’s eyes held each other and Bilbo’s hold on the tree tightened.

But the tree stopped, it’s roots holding it in place as the sudden stop jarred them all, making Bilbo’s grip slip. Nevertheless, he breathed out in relief when Thorin finally looked away from him and over Bilbo’s shoulder instead. Then Bilbo called out again as he saw Ori slip and saw Dori catch him, both of them dangling from a tenuously connected branch.

Before Bilbo knew what was happening, Thorin was getting up and walking over him, sparing him only a glance. It was a look of apology, and Bilbo wondered if it was because Thorin was practically committing suicide by walking out there or because he had allowed Bilbo to come along on this quest in the first place.

Then the King was running, sword drawn, tree shield raised on his arm. Azog snarled, hissing out words in the orc’s rotten language and Bilbo could do nothing but watch. He felt numb.

It was when Thorin got hit that Bilbo finally snapped awake, the panic leaving his mind to be replaced with it’s more insidious brother- fear.

He had realized earlier that Thorin looked out for everybody on this trip. He had not realized that meant that everybody did not necessarily risk their lives as foolishly for Thorin in return.

Bilbo breathed out. Well. Someone had to watch out for the stubborn dwarf and Bilbo decided then and there that he would do it. No matter how Thorin felt about him, Bilbo had promised to help, and that meant helping Thorin. They would fall apart without him.

The hobbit stood up on the tree trunk, watching as Thorin was clamped in the white warg’s jaws and thrown. Thorin breathed deeply as he hit the ground but didn’t get up and Bilbo drew Sting, the blue blade glowing brightly.

He hadn’t come back to this adventure just for Thorin to die. That was not happening under his watch. He wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t.

Bilbo ran to where Thorin was laying on the ground and tackled the orc about to behead the dwarf. Both of them rolled and Bilbo gasped at the impact before scrambling up to stab the beast violently.

He looked over and met Thorin’s eyes, practically glowing in the firelight, and shining with something suspiciously close to admiration mixed with gratitude that showed through a haze of pain.

Then they slid shut and Bilbo let out a yell, moving to stand and guard him, knowing that now both of them were about to die. Killed by orcs.

It beat falling to his death from a cliff, he supposed.

He swallowed, glancing back at Thorin. Taking in his face, seeing the blood coating his skin and mixed in his hair, Bilbo though that there were worse people to die protecting.

Then the others joined them, swords drawn as they rushed the orcs and a bite of relief swept through Bilbo quickly. Azog didn’t hesitate any longer once he and his men had lost the upper hand and rushed towards Bilbo, who swung Sting wide, trying to keep him away. The white warg threw him easily and he crawled backwards, dragging himself as close to Thorin as he could get.

He would not let him die. Every part of Bilbo was screaming at himself to stop anything else from happening to the dwarf.

And then the eagles appeared.

They came and Bilbo breathed out in relief. They could make it. Thorin could make it. The eagles would save him. Save them all.

Flying was a wondrous feeling. Bilbo wished he had been able to truly experience it without fear for Thorin clouding the quick journey.

Finally, the eagles dropped them on the Carrock standing tall in the river Anduin. Bilbo slid off immediately, landing firmly on his feet and walking towards Gandalf kneeling over Thorin, who was lying still. His eyes were still closed.

Suddenly it was very hard for Bilbo to swallow. His throat felt tight and he blinked and blinked again, trying to change the picture he saw. He came to a halt as the others slid down and grouped around their King.

After the longest wait in Bilbo’s life, Thorin’s eyes opened and he took a breath.

Bilbo smiled in pure relief.

“The halfling?” He heard Thorin ask immediately, and Bilbo saw the dwarves above Thorin exchange unreadable looks at their King’s first words.

“It’s alright.” Gandalf assured the dwarf. “Bilbo is here. He’s quite safe.”

Bilbo let out a breath, eager to see for himself, feeling the absurd desire to touch Thorin and make sure he was okay. The warg’s teeth had been sharp after all, and wrapped around his torso.

Thorin staggered up and then faced him immediately, shaking off his kin and coming over. Bilbo’s smile grew when he saw Thorin was walking without help.

It dimmed when Thorin spoke.

“You.” The dwarf rasped, face hard and eyes searching Bilbo’s. “What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed.” Thorin’s voice dropped to just above a whisper, as if forgetting he and Bilbo weren’t the only ones there. Bilbo blinked, mouth closing as he tried to figure out what he had done now to make Thorin so mad. He hadn’t waited that long before coming to his aid, surely?

“Did I not say you would be a burden?” Thorin breathed. “That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?”

Bilbo’s eyes dropped to Thorin’s shoulder, unable to meet his intense stare while he tried to hide the hurt and sadness Thorin’s words stirred in him. He had thought, after the Goblin Tunnels… Ah, but he had thought he and Thorin were getting along before that as well. He had been wrong then too.

When Bilbo looked up, Thorin’s face and voice softened, making the hobbit even more confused.

“I have never been so wrong in all my life.”

Oh.

Bilbo’s arms came up hesitantly to return the sudden hug, scared this was some trick. Was Thorin going to throw him off the edge?

Or could he really be acknowledging Bilbo?

He gripped Thorin back and then tightened his hold, feeling the dwarf respond. Thorin laughed quietly in Bilbo’s ear as the other dwarves cheered, and Bilbo smiled, finally realizing what this was.

Thorin was thanking him. Thorin was accepting him.

Bilbo felt a flutter in his chest and felt Thorin’s long hair against his skin. Stubble scratched softly on Bilbo’s cheek. He took a deep breath, smelling blood, sweat and dirt, but other things too. Musk, fresh air and a comforting smell of earth.

When Thorin pulled away he looked Bilbo over, checking for wounds. Satisfied when there was none he met the hobbit’s eyes.

“I am sorry I doubted you.” He began and Bilbo immediately shook his head.

“No, I- I would have doubted me too.” He spread his hands helplessly, almost overwhelmed by Thorin’s attention now that he had it. He had never felt so _seen_ before. “I’m not a hero or a warrior.” He had to look away, and gave a meaningful look to Gandalf. “Or even a burglar.”

When he looked back Thorin was smiling at him, the first true smile Bilbo had received from the dark-haired dwarf. That thing in Bilbo’s chest fluttered again and the panic and fear from before was replaced by warmth.

Yes, he thought seconds later while they looked at the Lonely Mountain. The worst was behind them.

oooOOOooo

After the Carrock Bilbo finally learns what it is to be friends with Thorin Oakenshield.

Now that he and the dwarf have reached a mutual understanding of respect it is absurd how quickly they grow comfortable with one another. Ridiculous how close to each other they get.

He doesn’t know what draws Thorin to him. What could make the King seek out Bilbo when he has other dwarves and Gandalf for company? Surely they’re good sources of stimulating conversation. What makes him as interested in Bilbo as Bilbo is in him?

Could it be because Bilbo isn’t Thorin’s subject? Gandalf isn’t either, and nor, Bilbo learns, are Bofur, Bifur and Bombur who come from the Blue Mountains.

Whatever it is that makes Thorin come back to him again and again, Bilbo won’t complain.

The others in their party raise eyebrows, Bilbo sees them. He wonders if it is truly so strange, seeing their King friends with a hobbit. He feels he’s friends with each of them, why can it not be the same for Thorin and him? Are all of the significant looks and nudges really necessary? The two of them are just talking, for goodness sake!

But it is only a minor concern to Bilbo.

Thorin fascinates him, and now that he has an inch Bilbo realizes he must take a mile. He pesters Thorin with questions endlessly and eventually, to both of their surprise, Thorin begins to answer.

He tells Bilbo of Erebor in it’s glory and the homage that was paid to the dwarves by men and elves alike. Bilbo listens as Thorin describes the centuries of peace under the rule of his grandfather, Thrór. He pays attention to stories of Thorin’s parents and his two younger siblings, and stories of Fíli and Kíli. (The two dwarves in question shudder and groan, not wanting to be reminded of their younger exploits and embarrasments.)

In return Bilbo tells stories of the Shire. He talks about the weekly market and the peace of his home (ruined only occasionally by the Sackville-Bagginses) and the way he could spend an afternoon talking to Hamfast Gamgee. Thorin listens to it all with a hint of yearning, but mostly he seems to take joy from Bilbo’s stories. He asks him questions and often spends a long time thinking over Bilbo’s answers.

The hobbit regales all of the dwarves with his stories of hobbit birthday parties and the drinking contests and how he was a proud winner of more than a few of them, thank you very much.

“Yer so tiny I bet one dwarf pint could leave you under the table.” Dwalin grumbled.

Bilbo only laughed and shook his head. “Don’t be so sure. Haven’t you heard that hobbits are famous for our tolerance?”

“Aye?” The warrior asks, one eyebrow raised in surprise. “Next place we can, you and I will test that, Burglar.”

“On your head be it.” Gandalf mutters in response as he passes them all and the dwarves all break into grins.

Bilbo accepts the challenge and when he turns back to Thorin the dwarf is watching him with open amusement.

One night after they’ve reached Beorn’s Bilbo is laying between Thorin and Glóin. The latter was fast asleep, deep breaths escaping him in a rhythm, but when Bilbo turns to look at Thorin the King is laying awake looking up at Beorn’s roof.

“What is it?” Bilbo asks, turning on his side to speak to his friend. Thorin turns his head to meet the look.

“I was thinking of you, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo blinks while a strange prickling rushes across his skin. “Of me?”

Thorin tilts his head in a nod, turning his body to face him fully as well. Both of them are lying on their sides to speak in hushed whispers. The warmth of Thorin’s words ghosts across Bilbo’s face, tickling his nose. “I was thinking of the trolls.”

“Oh.” Bilbo frowns. “I’d rather you wouldn’t.

Thorin’s blue eyes are intense and Bilbo looks down quickly. He can’t resist looking back up when Thorin speaks again and Bilbo sees the corners of his mouth are turned up in a small smile.

“You surprised me that night.” The King’s words are soft.

Bilbo rolls his eyes. “By being so foolish?”

“No. By being so fearless.” Thorin’s eyes flicker down to take Bilbo in completely before looking back up. For some reason Bilbo’s breath hitches. “I am not often surprised, but you… you confound me at every turn.”

The hobbit blushes.

“Are all your people like you?” Thorin wonders, repeating his question from weeks ago. “I cannot imagine they are, or the rest of Middle-Earth would have heard of hobbits long ago.”

Bilbo clears his throat, surprised at the compliment. He shifts to ease the rush that crawled across his skin. “No. At least… I don’t think so. I’ve always thought I was a bit odd, to be honest. For a hobbit at least.”

Thorin doesn’t look away and his voice is curious. “In what way?”

“Hobbits don’t like adventure much.” Bilbo says. “Unless you’re a Took, of course, and even then... But my father’s family were quite happy to stay in the Shire and settle down quickly. Most hobbits are that way. It’s not often we- that any of us feel-“

“Restless?” Thorin asks with a knowing look. “Adventurous?”

“Incomplete.” Bilbo says and Thorin’s smile drops in surprise. “I love the Shire dearly but I’ve always known there was more out here. When I was younger I dreamed of adventures like this one.” He laughs softly. “It’s surprising, isn’t it, considering you lot practically had to drag me out my front door.”

Glóin shifts behind him but his breathing evens out again, so Bilbo knows he’s still asleep. He shifts as well, moving towards Thorin incrementally.

Thorin doesn’t seem to notice. “Incomplete.” He repeats, eyes never leaving the hobbit.

Bilbo shrugs one shoulder, the other bent so his hand rests beneath his head as a sort of pillow between his pack and his head. “I seem incapable of finding somebody to spend my life with.” He laughs quietly again, but it’s self-conscious and it’s hard to met Thorin’s eyes now. “I’m middle-aged, by hobbit standards. Most would have settled down with somebody by now. Believe me, others have asked me about it.”

Thorin frowns, not understanding. “But if you have not found your One why would you settle down?”

Bilbo’s smile is a small thing. “Hobbit’s don’t have that. A One. If you haven’t found love by a certain point many of us just find anybody we’re compatible with and settle down. To avoid loneliness, and because it’s a bit strange to stay unmarried. The children will still be loved, and if the parents get along it really isn’t so bad. Platonic love is still love. Better than a love that turns to hatred.”

Thorin’s eyes were slightly wide. “Does that happen?”

“Not often. I’ve never seen it myself.” Bilbo says. “But sometimes.”

They watch each other quietly and Bilbo swallows, realizing that there is less than a foot between them now that he has moved forward to avoid Glóin.

“And why have you not settled down?” Thorin asks, curiosity plain in his tone. “If it is… frowned upon for you to be alone.”

There is an air of expectation between the two of them and Bilbo is suddenly very aware of both Thorin and himself. He feels exposed and the honesty in Thorin’s expression, the interest there, is a heady thing.

Bilbo looks down, watching a bee float just above the floor. It makes its way from him towards Thorin slowly. “I suppose I was hoping to find the real thing.” He replies finally.

There is an odd and quiet sound from Thorin’s throat, a strangled choking sound of pain which breaks the loaded silence between them. Bilbo looks up, eyes wide.

“Are you alright?” He asks worriedly and Thorin nods.  

“I- stung by that bee.” The King doesn’t move though, still watching Bilbo who frowns in confusion. Perhaps dwarves did not feel bee stings as painfully as hobbits? Thorin seems happy enough to stay where he is, not even looking at wherever the bee had stung.

They fall quiet and eventually Bilbo turns to lie on his back after his shoulder grows uncomfortable. It’s just as he’s drifting off to sleep that Thorin finally speaks again.

“I am sorry you have not found your One, Bilbo.” He hears the King whisper. “But I am happy that you are here with us.”

The bee from before comes to hover beside Bilbo’s ear, making him frown and half-heartedly try to swat it away. Gently, so as not to kill it, as Beorn would be upset at that. He doesn’t open his eyes though, and his lips turn up in a lazy, sleepy smile at Thorin’s words before he finally drifts off.

oooOOOooo

The next night when they rest in Mirkwood- tightly packed so that none of them get off the trail- Bilbo finds himself beside Thorin once more.

“What about you?” He asks Thorin when it’s his turn for watch. He’s sitting upright and can clearly see the glint of Thorin’s open eyes from where the King lies on his back beside him. Thorin has a bad habit of only getting a couple hours of sleep a night and spends a large part of his time as a second set of eyes, looking out for any danger.

He’s thinking of their conversation from the night before and finds that he’s curious whether or not Thorin has some dwarf waiting for him back in the Blue Mountains. “You haven’t… found your One?”

He’s only managed to grasp a simple concept of dwarves’ love life’s, but he’s managed to scrape together the concept of finding their One. Dwarves, Bofur had confided, love deeply.

Thorin’s eyes flicker but his gaze is steady. His expression doesn’t change. “No, Master Baggins. I have not.”

“Oh.” He falls quiet, realizing he’s probably being rude. He gives a cursory survey of their surroundings to make sure nothing’s creeping up on them before looking back at Thorin. “I’m sorry.”

Thorin shrugs. “It is not something I concern myself with.”

Bilbo blinks. “You just… don’t care?”

Thorin inclines his head slightly in agreement. “My heart belongs to my home, my people and my family.”

Bilbo frowns, not understanding what that had to do with anything. “So?”

“My One would have to share it among hundreds.” Thorin answers him simply. “I could never be completely theirs. It would be a very hard thing, to devote yourself so fully to another and never have them consider you the most important thing in their life in return.”

“Oh.” Bilbo says again, repeating himself from earlier and making him blush. “I see what you mean. But that shouldn’t matter if you’re their One in return, right? If they truly loved you then they would know that loving you meant loving Erebor and everything that goes with it.”

Thorin blinks at him in surprise, quiet for a few seconds before agreeing. “I suppose.”

“I mean, what about your parents? And grandparents? Your mother obviously loved your father despite him being a prince. I suppose your grandmother was the same with King Thrór?”

Thorin nods.

“Then I’m sure it will be the same for you.” Bilbo says with a smile, oblivious to the impact his words were having on the dwarf beside him. “Anyone can see how devoted to your people you are, Thorin. I don’t think loving you would come into conflict with that. It wouldn’t for me, at least.”

“For you?”

Bilbo nodded at him. “Say I was a dwarf and you were my One.” He waves a hand in a ‘just go along with it’ gesture. “I don’t think it would be hard for me to love you at all, especially once you reclaim Erebor. Love shouldn’t be selfishly wanting a person all to yourself. It should be having the wish to share your loved one with everyone around you and know that at the end of the day it will still be the two of you together. No matter what. And it should be wanting to make the other person happy. I know that for you, you would only be happy taking care of your people and your home.”

Thorin has a strange look on his face while he looks up, one that Bilbo can’t make out and he shifts uncomfortably, looking around them all again, checking to make sure everyone is still asleep.

They are.

“If it was me, of course.” He adds in the silence, feeling his face grow hot.

Thorin clears his throat and they finally meet each other’s eyes. “That is kind of you to say. I’d never thought of it like that before.”

The hobbit shrugs, glad the moment had passed, though his skin still felt like a cool breeze had just run across it.

Several minutes pass in silence before Bilbo finally comes back to himself. “Do children realize when they’ve found their One?” He looks at Thorin who’s brow is furrowed slighty, making him clarify. “I mean what if they grow up and they’re childhood friends. Do they realize when they’re children or is there a certain age or moment when they’re older and they just… know?”

Thorin’s lips purse as he thinks. “I have heard different stories,” he confides finally. “Some children realize it before they are even taught the concept of our One, and separating them is impossible. By that point the parents usually figure it out as well. But I think it’s more common for dwarves to realize when they’re older. Most of us find our One after we turn 50, though not always.”

Bilbo hums in thought, still curious. “What happens if two dwarves fall in love with the same person?  Or if your One doesn’t love you back?”

Thorin is looking up at the trees, watching the leaves brush against one another and hearing them whisper. “In the first case, the dwarf in question could return one of their suitor’s affections and they would be together. Sometimes all three dwarves will come to an arrangement of sorts. Other times the dwarf would return neither suitor’s feelings. Unrequited love does exist, thought it is rare and tragic. As you said before, however, pure love is wanting the happiness of your One above all else. If being with you is what stops them from being happy then you are willing to let them go.”

“That’s quite sad.” Bilbo said. He couldn’t imagine loving somebody so thoroughly and having to live without them forever because they didn’t return your feelings. “And you never love again? Truly?”

“No.” Thorin answered quietly. “When we love it is but once and lasts a lifetime.”

Bilbo felt his heart twist and he took a deep breath, surprised at how touched he was at Thorin’s words. When he blinked he felt pressure beneath his eyelids and held back the tears.

“Burglar?”

He glanced over at Thorin who’s face slackened when he saw the sheen in Bilbo’s eyes. He pushed himself up on an elbow to come level to Bilbo.

“Here, don’t cry-” Thorin said tentatively, his expression betraying how unsure he was.

“I don’t mean to.” The hobbit sniffs loudly, blinks again and forces the tears back. “I just- being alone your whole life after finding the person you want to be with? It’s just sad.”

Thorin’s eyes soften to the point they seem molten. “I agree. Though I have heard it is worth it. To know love at all.”

Bilbo nods. “Probably. What do I know?” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly.”

Thorin lay back down and his hair spread on the ground to rest just beside one of Bilbo’s hands. If he stretched out his pinky finger he could touch it.

“You aren’t.” Thorin says. “I- lied before. Sometimes I wonder, what it would be like. To find my One.”

Bilbo listens, breathless, as Thorin continues in a whisper. “Sometimes I want it more than Erebor.”

The hobbit is sitting cross-legged, back to Bombur, which means he can look down at Thorin and see the heat in his eyes as the dwarf looks back.

“Sometimes, at Bag-End, I would lay in bed before going to sleep.” Bilbo swallows before continuing his whisper. “And I would suddenly want…”

“Yes?”

“I would want someone there. Just to be there, with me. To hold me, sometimes. It would get so incredibly…”

“Lonely.” Thorin finishes for him. “Yes. That is one thing I have felt as well.”

Bilbo clears his throat. “I expect it would be worse for you. Being royalty and all.”

“Maybe.” Thorin says and his eyes are intent on him. “Though I would not diminish your own sadness, Bilbo. All of us want, after all.”

Bilbo’s heart beat sporadically and he finally allows his pinky to stretch out and curl around the nearest dark strand of hair. He doesn’t know why, but holding that, a curl of Thorin’s long strands, makes him not feel so lonely anymore.

Thorin’s eyes flicker down for a second and when they meet Bilbo’s again they are breathtakingly open.

Neither of them try to fill the silence but it’s okay. It feels… comforting.

“I expect it’s time for Bombur’s watch.” Thorin says after several minutes have passed, giving him a knowing look and soft smile.

“Oh.” Bilbo says in surprise, letting go of Thorin’s hair hastily to lay down and nudge Bombur awake. The other dwarf comes to with a snort, eyes blinking quick.

“Your watch, Bombur,” Bilbo murmurs, and the other dwarf nods sleepily.

“Aye, alright then. Get yerself some sleep, Master Bilbo.” The red head replies and Bilbo nods, laying down as the other sits up.

As his head rests on his pack he finds that he is actually quite tired. He turns over, towards Thorin.

The dwarf has his eyes closed but somehow Bilbo knows he’s not sleeping yet.

“Good night, Thorin,” he says softly.

The dwarf’s lips twitch before he answers quietly. “Good night.”

oooOOOooo

“Well, that’s that then. A deal was our only hope.” Balin sighs, turning away from Thorin to sit back down in his cell deep in the dungeons of Mirkwood.

“Not our only hope.” The King smiles and waits, a rush still going through him after his confrontation with Thranduil. He isn’t worried, not really and he keeps watching expectantly, waiting for the sound of hobbit feet on the carved pathway.

It had already been a few days spent in the dungeons before Thranduil had granted Thorin an audience but Thorin had noted who was absent from their party even if most of the others had not. Bofur had made sure Thorin noticed Bilbo missing from the line of the elves captives. He knew, with no hesitation, that they would be rescued soon.

He had doubted their burglar before and been proven wrong. He would not do so again.

In fact, he was proven right only days later.

The first day, immediately after the Captain of the Elven Guard had left, the dwarves had begun mocking Kíli by taunting him for even deigning to have a conversation with the red headed elf. Voices echoed in these dungeons, and though the elf and Kíli had been speaking quietly some of their words had reached the others.

By now the taunts had died down, though the Captain did walk past the cells to check all of them were still there every morning and evening. She stopped by Kíli’s cell often, all of the dwarves noted, and the two talked quietly before she was eventually drawn away by other duties.

Thorin paid them no mind, though any other time he would have been furious. He was too busy waiting for Bilbo.

“What time is it?” Bofur complained eventually, long after the red-haired elf had left that morning and silence had fallen between them all.

Ori spoke immediately after, sounding beaten. “We’re never going to reach the mountain.”

The next voice he heard made Thorin perk up immediately.

“Not stuck in here you’re not.” Bilbo appeared in front of his cell door, quietly lifting the keys in his hand.

Thorin couldn’t help the wide smile that broke out on his face, or the swell of relief that filled him. He had been sure but- well it was good to see the hobbit safe and in one piece.

He rushed to the door, meeting Bilbo there and their hands brushed, just for a second as they both gripped the bars. Thorin’s clenched around the metal.

Bilbo quickly moved his away to find the right key for Thorin’s door.

Their eyes met and Thorin made an effort to wipe the smile off of his face. They weren’t out of the dungeons yet. “I was wondering when you would show up.” He said quietly as the others called Bilbo’s name.

“Thought I’d take a little nap first.” Bilbo replied without missing a beat, eyes twinkling. “Catch up on my beauty sleep.”

“You sorely need it.”

Bilbo smiled widely, making Thorin blink, before the hobbit turned to the others and said in a hurried whisper. “Shh! There are guards nearby.”

Thorin’s door opened finally and he shared one last look with the hobbit before stepping out to check their surroundings. No guards that he could see, but he was sure it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“No, not that way, follow me!” Bilbo whispered after they were all freed and began gathering at the stairs.

Thorin watched as he hurried down another set of stairs- down?- but nodded at the others questioning glances all the same.

“Follow him.” He ordered and they complied, Thorin staying at the back.

When they reached the cellars, he had a momentary feeling of worry. Did Bilbo truly know what he was doing? Why had he brought them down deeper into Thranduil’s kingdom?

Dwalin stepped towards the hobbit as the others gathered around the barrels. “Are you mad? They’ll find us.”

“No no, they won’t, I promise. Please- please, you must trust me.” Bilbo whispered fiercely as others voiced Thorin’s thoughts.

The others gathered together again, continuing to mutter but Thorin watched Bilbo. Saw the way his shoulders fell a tiny bit and noticed when panic made it’s first appearance on his face.

Bilbo glanced towards him with a pleading expression and Thorin only needed to meet his eyes for a second before looking at the others and hissing. “Do as he says!”

He looked back to Bilbo and the hobbit nodded at him in silent thanks. Thorin turned away to get closer to the barrels and help lift the others in before he shot one last glance at Bilbo.

The hobbit nodded and Thorin sighed before crawling into a barrel himself.

 And then he and the other dwarves yelled as Bilbo dumped them all into the river.

From there things were a rush and Thorin was too busy fighting off orcs and dodging elves to spare more than a moment to make sure the others were still with them and whole.

Bilbo had made it and been helped to find a free barrel. He had noticed that.

Then they were all floating down the river away from their pursuers. Kíli was panting from the pain of his arrow wound, which made Thorin frown in concern. After climbing out of the barrels he made sure Óin took a look at the wound. Once he saw that everybody was alright he relaxed and turned to try and make a plan for getting across the lake.

The bowman showing up was a stroke of luck. Him agreeing to smuggle them into the town was even better.

If only Kíli hadn’t slipped when walking with the weapons they could have made it out of Lake-Town with most of it’s occupants being none the wiser.

It is when they are first bargaining with the Master of the town that Thorin feels it. For a brief minute, he feels indignant at the thought of these men getting any of the gold in Erebor. The idea that these people, who only help them for a reward, should be repaid for showing basic kindness disgusts him.

(It is only the first time the dragon sickness will present itself in Thorin.)

The hunched man beside the Master speaks up. “Why should we take you at your word, ay? We know nothing about you. Who here can vouch for your character?”

Thorin narrows his eyes at the dark-haired man, anger and frustration warring inside of him. The Master and his councillor were nothing but greedy men, but Thorin knew he needed their blessing to leave Lake-Town without conflict.

It was a pregnant silence that followed, with Thorin trying to come up with an answer that would keep everything civil. He had been told, by some (Balin and Bilbo) that leaving without a skirmish would be the easiest thing to do, and benefit them more in the long-run.

“Me. I’ll vouch for him.”

At Bilbo’s voice Thorin turns around to find the hobbit speaking to the men, stepping forward to allow himself to be better heard.

Surprise fills Thorin again. Bilbo Baggins always seems to be doing that to him.

He would never have asked the hobbit to do such a thing. To give his word, when they had no assurance that it could be kept.

He hadn’t been sure of how Bilbo felt about him, to be honest. A few startlingly honest conversations at night was not enough to make either of them forget how Thorin had treated him the first few months of their journey. The hobbit vouching for his character was more than Thorin would ever have expected.

“I have travelled far with these dwarves through great danger. And if Thorin Oakenshield gives his word,” Bilbo’s eyes dropped from the Master to meet Thorin’s. “Then he will keep it.”

For a moment something more than gratitude overwhelmed Thorin, and he bowed his head to the hobbit because looking at him- it made his chest hurt.

Quickly he turned to the Master again. “Well?”

And that was that. Bilbo’s words and the greed of the Master were convincing enough. The Company would be given food, shelter, weapons and anything else they might need, along with a boat to leave on when the time came.

Thorin would have rather left that same day, but when he’d looked at the rest of his Company he’d realized how exhausted they all were. Bofur and Bifur were supporting one another thoughtlessly. Kíli was pale and his skin was clammy as he slumped against Fíli.

A night of feasting and celebration would do them all good, he decided. Besides, he remembered with a feeling of anticipation, Bilbo and Dwalin had promised a drinking competition.

By midnight most of the men who had come to celebrate with them had left to stagger to their homes and it was just the Company sitting and drinking around the table. Dwalin had admitted defeat to Bilbo close to an hour ago and had startled awake to rejoin the rest of them only minutes ago.

Thorin was at the table’s head. To his right was Bifur and to his left was Bilbo whose eyes were slightly bleary and his cheeks were distractingly flushed from drink.

Thorin took a generous gulp of his own drink.

“I appreciate your words to the Master.” Thorin said to the hobbit quietly as the rest began singing a song in Khuzdul. “It spared us from seeing bloodshed.”

Bilbo shrugged, looking away in embarrassment. “I meant them.”

A warmth flared in Thorin, quick and bright. “Thank you.”

The hobbit smiled at him. “If we thanked one another for everything we’ve done we would be here all night. I’m a part of the Company and I told you I would do what I could to help us succeed in our mission. Vouching for you wasn’t a hardship as it was true.”

Thorin nods before smiling back. “Yes, and soon you will see your good deeds repaid at last.”

Bilbo’s face fell, making Thorin frown. Eventually he ventured to ask. “What is it, Master burglar?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing.” An unconvincing smile crossed Bilbo’s expression.

“If you fear facing Smaug-“ Thorin began only for the hobbit to interrupt him.

“No, I- it’s not that.”

“Will you share your grievance with me? Did I offend you in some way?”

Bilbo looked up and met his eyes, holding his gaze. Thorin looked back steadily, still surprised that the hobbit didn’t look away from him. It was rare than anybody stood up to Thorin, even to meet his eyes.

He couldn’t say that he disliked it. Not from Bilbo. Somehow he almost _wanted_ it from the burglar.

“I was just thinking.” Bilbo said finally. “About after Smaug’s gone.”

“Yes?”

“When I go home.” Bilbo finished, looking at Thorin with a question in his eyes.

“Oh.” Thorin fell silent, leaning back against his chair in response and putting space between the two of them.

How had he forgotten that Bilbo would be leaving after this was all finished? Silly of him to ignore that the hobbit wanted to get back to his home. The Shire. Bilbo’s own Erebor.

“Yes, I expect you’ll be home soon enough,” Thorin said finally, realizing his friend was waiting for him to reply. He was irritated with the topic and the words came out more snappish than he’d meant them to.

He didn’t notice Bilbo flinch.

“And you?” Bilbo asked finally, voice quiet.

Thorin blinked over at him. “What about me?”

“You’ll rule Erebor. You’ll never leave it again, I expect” Bilbo’s smile was wry. “Somehow I can’t picture you sitting on a throne all day.”

Thorin snorted in laughter, looking around at his kin to make sure none were watching before leaning closer to Bilbo. “To be honest, Master Baggins, neither can I.”

“Friends with a king,” Bilbo said while shaking his head. “Who would have thought?”

“A dwarf king being friends with a hobbit.” Thorin looked down to meet Bilbo’s hazel eyes and felt his gut clench. “I believe it is a first.”

His friend ducked his head down shyly, smiling.

Thorin was oddly pleased at the gesture.

“Ah well. I suppose I was already strange.” Bilbo said and Thorin remembered their previous conversations. Of Bilbo being considered odd for not settling down and marrying at his age.

“I think you’re perfectly regular.” Thorin said stoutly, sipping from his tankard. “But what do I know of hobbits?”

Bilbo laughed. “I thank you.” He raised his smaller cup to toast Thorin before taking a drink. His cheeks really were distracting and his eyes were so bright that Thorin found himself staring without realizing it. There was a droplet of ale on Bilbo’s lower lip and as Thorin watched as Bilbo noticed it and licked it away.

Thorin put his tankard down with a small thud, making several of the others look over. He glowered back at them until they resumed their conversations.

“Do hobbits marry into other species?” He asked suddenly, making Bilbo startle.

“What?”

“Other races.” Thorin said, ignoring the strange look Bilbo was giving him. He himself wasn’t even sure where the question had come from. “Men, elves, dwarves… Do hobbits marry outside of themselves? Have you ever heard of such a case?”

His tongue was moving without his brain’s permission and Thorin frowned, looking down at his drink. Perhaps he had had more than he’d thought.

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.” Bilbo frowned. “Not that I know of, no.”

Thorin nodded, taking another drink. He’d expected that.

“What of dwarves?” Bilbo asked, a strange note in his voice.

Thorin looked over their table of friends, avoiding the hobbit’s gaze. The rest of the Company weren’t paying them any attention. “It is rare.” He admitted, before finally looking at Bilbo. “But not unheard of.”

The hobbit’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open in surprise.

“Oh. I never would have imagined…” Bilbo trailed off. “I didn’t think that would be possible.”

Thorin ignored the feeling in his stomach. “I was merely curious. Your people seem quite… straight-laced.”

Bilbo laughs at him and Thorin’s mouth twitches in response.

“I suppose you’re right,” the hobbit agrees. “The biggest gossip around the Shire is over whether Carol Brandybuck will spare her garden’s soil and rotate her seeds this year or continue to leech it dry.”

Thorin blinked. “I see.”

Bilbo took one look at his face and smiled. “No, you don’t.” He shook his head and if Thorin were feeling generous he would say the gesture was fond. “But that’s alright. As you said, it’s rather dull.”

“I didn’t say that-“ The King protested.

“But dull it is.” Bilbo’s face fell. After several seconds he voiced his concern. “I don’t know how I’m going to be able to go back after this.”

Thorin’s stomach twisted.

“If you get past Smaug that is, Bilbo!” Bofur called cheerily and the others all laughed, having heard the last few lines of their conversation.

Bilbo smiled too, thought it was less happily than the others. “Are you offering to do it for me?” He bit back.

“Not for all of the gold in Erebor.” Bofur shook his head.

“Enough.” Thorin growled, disliking the subject. “Are any of you thinking of settling down soon? We leave at first light and I would rather none of us get to the boat with headaches and alcohol soaked clothes.”

“Ah, don’t be like that, Thorin!” Dwalin slurred, clinking tankards with Kíli who laughed shortly. Thorin noticed that his nephew hadn’t moved in his chair all evening, almost as if the wound was getting worse.

He frowned.

Bilbo distracted him however by standing up out of his chair and setting his drink down. “I think Thorin’s right, at least for me.” He smiled at them all. “Until tomorrow.”

“Goodnight Bilbo!” The Company called, half of them too drunk to say it clearly through laughter.

Thorin scowled as the hobbit left to go to the next room.

“Now don’t go looking at him like that,” Balin sank into the chair Bilbo had just left. “Whatever he’s done I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

Thorin looked over at his old friend and softened his scowl. Unwilling to correct the older dwarf he looked at the other’s tankard, which was full of water.

“At least one of you is being responsible.” Thorin said, pouring some water for himself. “Care to convince your brother to do the same?”

“Now why would I go looking for a fight tonight of all nights?” Balin answered but he glanced to where Bilbo had left as he did.

Thorin didn’t answer him, knowing there was a question on Balin’s mind. It came soon enough.

“Is he ready for what’s to come?” Balin asked seriously.

Thorin feigned innocence by lifting an eyebrow. “Dwalin? I certainly hope so.”

Balin scowled. “You know I speak of Bilbo.”

The King’s playfulness fell away as quickly as it had come. “Gandalf would not have chosen him otherwise.”

Balin was quiet for a minute or two before finally saying. “Mmm, sometimes I think Gandalf takes risks knowing he will be able to live with the consequences. It doesn’t mean the rest of us will.”

Thorin looked over in surprise at Balin’s words. “What are you saying?”

“I mean,” Balin leaned forwards, voice lowering. Thorin leaned in as well, hair falling to hang beside his face. “Gandalf has lived a long time, longer than any of us truly know. He’s seen death and he knows it will come in quests such as this. I expect he does not take as great of care with our lives as we do. Including Bilbo’s.”

“He did not send him here to die.” Thorin said, feeling anger stir in his blood.

“No.” Balin agreed easily. “But this quest has not been easy on any of us, least of all Bilbo. And it will all have been nothing compared to Smaug. Before we allowed Bilbo to come because we were desperate and had no ties to the lad. Now…” He looked around at everyone. “Now we care, Thorin. None of us would see him hurt.”

“And you think I would?” Thorin demands sharply, his anger making an appearance. He stood, meeting Balin’s eyes as the other dwarf stood up with him. “If Gandalf says he can do it then he can. We’ve already accepted our burglar, we won’t go back on that now.”

There was an awkward silence around the table at his outburst and Thorin’s anger only spread, making its way to a glower on his face.

He sat down slowly, with an effort to rein in his emotions. Balin followed suit.

“Bilbo has proven he is more capable than any of us thought.” Thorin says finally, voice quiet as conversation picks up again. “He knows what he has to do and he is not foolish. If he thought he couldn’t then he would let us know.”

Balin’s eyes are too knowing for Thorin’s taste and he takes a quick drink of water to avoid further conversation.

When another drinking song starts up Balin joins in, obviously laying the conversation to rest, and Thorin is grateful.

oooOOOooo

Leaving a third of their party behind in Lake-Town was not ideal, but Thorin could see no other way. Kíli was wounded and the injury was worse than any of their party had known. If he could not walk down a simple set of stairs there was no chance Thorin would allow him to come and face a long-slumbering dragon.

Fíli staying behind should have been expected and indeed Thorin berates himself for not planning for it. As they sail away however he thinks perhaps it is for the best. Keeping his sister-son’s safe will be easier if they are not near the fighting to begin with.

Óin choosing to stay also makes sense, though it troubles Thorin more. Their best healer would undoubtedly be necessary after the confrontation with Smaug and Thorin wonders who would be best in their shrunken group to treat an injury caused by a dragon. However, he would not begrudge Kíli Óin’s knowledge and though he rarely shows it, his nephews are a priority. It reassures Thorin to know Óin will be with them and helping speed Kíli’s recovery so that they might rejoin them at the Lonely Mountain sooner rather than later.

It is while Thorin is mulling all of this over in his mind that Bilbo carefully maneuvers himself to sit nearby. The other dwarves barely spare the pair of them a glance, used to their hushed conversations at this point, and too busy rowing besides. Soon the oars will change hands, but dwarf endurance ensures that it will not be for a few more hours yet.

“Kíli will be okay.” Bilbo says quietly when Thorin looks at him. “You did the right thing keeping him back.”

Thorin’s mouth twists in displeasure all the same. “He and his brother have been raised on stories of Erebor. To take the moment we reclaim our home away from them is cruel.”

“But necessary.” Bilbo insists entreatingly. “He was in too much pain besides. You did him a kindness.”

Thorin shakes his head. “Perhaps. But it is unfair to make them experience our homecoming through retellings. To make them learn it through songs and epics as other dwarves will. Dwarves who are not a part of this quest. They deserve to be here.”

The hobbit’s eyes are sad. “If he is healed and they return to us unharmed then it will be worth it. You did what any leader would.”

Thorin doesn’t reply and the rest of the journey passes largely in silence. Bilbo’s words have helped ease the guilt he’d been feeling though, even if they hadn’t erased it entirely, and for that Thorin is grateful.

When they reach the shore Thorin is the first out of the boat, laying his oar down and jumping into the foot or so of water immediately. His arms are weary after his bout of rowing but his legs are aching to move and they slog through the water determinedly, not even noticing the weight of his drenched fur cloak.

Bilbo is not far behind him and soon the others crowd around as well, all looking up at the huge rock looming before them.

“Come. There is still a ways to travel before we are at the mountain’s base and we need to find the stairwell to the door.” It is two days until Durin’s Day and Thorin is hoping to reach the mountain by tomorrow at the latest. That leaves plenty of time to find the staircase and make their way up the side before looking for the keyhole.

Their party sets off with a renewed vigor, all of the dwarves happy to be so close. The fear of Smaug seems to have disappeared from all of them for the moment and Thorin is happy to see it go.

They make good time and settle down to rest for the night in the city of Dale, using it’s already built (though destroyed) walls as protection from wind and cold. Glóin even lights a fire and soon all of them are sleeping but Thorin, who can’t help but try and find the hidden stairwell from where he sits.

By daylight they are waking up and eating a quick breakfast. Soon they’re finishing the trek and an awed hush comes over them all as they look up at the feat of nature in front of them, reverent in the sheer size of the mountain and all it holds within.

A pang is in Thorin at the sight, once so familiar to him in his youth. When he looks back to his companions he sees the same sorrow in Balin and Dwalin, the latter reaching out to squeeze Thorin’s shoulder in silent comradery.

They split up to search, everybody wanting to cover more ground and look at every angle imaginable for the staircase. It is evening when Bilbo shouts excitedly, making Thorin who is closest to him run over.

“You have keen eyes, Master Baggins.” He compliments and Bilbo grins in unashamed pride at the compliment, making the content and excited feeling in Thorin’s chest spread.

They are making good time and Thorin is proud of the happiness shining from his companions faces. They will rest.

oooOOOooo

They camp for the night but most of them are too excited to sleep. Bilbo is laughing with Balin and when their laughter tapers off he follows the dwarf’s gaze to look at Thorin.

“If he looks at that map anymore it will be tattooed beneath his eyelids.” Bilbo comments and Balin snorts.

“Ah, he is only being cautious. He does not want to have come so far only to fail at the last moment.” Balin grows somber. “I suspect it would break us all.”

Bilbo frowns. “But we’ve found the stairway. Tomorrow is Durin’s Day. What can go wrong between then and now?”

“Asking that is like tempting fate, laddie.” Balin warns. “Best not count your chickens before they’re hatched.”

Bilbo acknowledges the sense in that and their conversation turns to other things. Soon Balin is calling it a night, quickly followed by a slew of the others until once more it is just Bilbo and Thorin awake.

Thorin looks over at him. “You should be resting. Saving your strength for what is to come.”

Bilbo picks his way around the fire, avoiding stepping on any sleeping dwarves as he comes to sit beside Thorin. Maybe closer than necessary, but neither of them say anything about that.

“I don’t think a good night’s sleep is what I need to face a dragon,” Bilbo murmurs.

Thorin’s hand flexes around the key gripped in it. “You will not be facing the dragon, just-“

“Stealing from him.” Bilbo says. “Yes. Somehow I think it all amounts to the same thing.”

Thorin is quiet and Bilbo turns to watch the flames. Until.

“Bilbo.”

It’s the sound of his first name that makes him look over in surprise. Thorin is watching him closely, something warring in his eyes.

“If it is too dangerous,” the King begins before stopping and visibly swallowing. “If you should feel you need our help, come back to where we wait. None of us would see you die.”

Bilbo smiles a small smile. “Thank you. But I’ll do what I can.”

“Just be careful. Smaug is cunning, and I am sure many have tried to claim some of his treasure in the past only to be caught. I would not see you be one of them.”

“I won’t get caught, Thorin.” Bilbo reassures, touched at the concern. “And I won’t just give up. I signed the contract, I’m your burglar.”

A frustrated sound escapes Thorin’s throat. “You are not following. At the slightest hint of a risk to your safety, you must leave. No gem, no matter how precious, is worth your life, Bilbo. Do you understand?”

Bilbo blinks. “But- if I can’t get the gem you need-“

“Then we will find another way.” Thorin says with finality. “I would not begin my rule of Erebor on the death of- of a friend.”

Bilbo looks down, fiddling with his sleeves and unable to meet Thorin’s gaze. “I understand.” He hesitates before saying, “thank you.”

“If you come out of the mountain unscathed then it is I who will be thanking you.” Thorin says in reply.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, both of them watching the fire, until Bilbo looks over. “Why are you suddenly saying my name? Before you would always just call me Master Burglar, or Master Baggins. What’s changed?”

A strangely uncomfortable expression comes over Thorin and Bilbo thinks he must really be getting acquainted with the dwarf because before he wouldn’t have noticed a change in Thorin’s expression at all.

“Names are special to dwarves, at least to the nobles.” The King finally says. “To use one’s given name is very personal.”

The hobbit blinks. “Truly? That is why you address me as master?”

Thorin inclines his head.

“But you’ve started saying my name.” Bilbo says, a smile breaking out over his face. “What does that mean?”

“It means I cannot control my tongue.” Thorin grumbles, but Bilbo’s smile only widens. The dwarf catches sight of it and shakes his head, though by the time their eyes meet once more he’s smiling as well. A smile that falls away as Thorin answers his question. “It means I am taking liberties where I should not.”

Bilbo shrugs happily. “I don’t mind. I like when you say my name.” His nose wrinkles. “All of the titles are so stuffy and formal.”

Thorin’s lips twitch. “I would have thought hobbits approved of that.”

“We approve of manners and respect, it’s true. But after this long, given what we’ve all been through I think we know each other well enough to be a tad informal.”

Thorin is avoiding his gaze. “Even so. It is a bad habit to slip into, seeing as I am who I am and we are not…”

“Not?” Bilbo prompts. “Not what?”

“Not courting.” Thorin says and Bilbo spots a blush on his face now, a sight he had never thought to see in his life. “Or- or family. Even old friends. For a member of the royal family to be so particular with one another so soon is highly unusual. The only cases of names being used this quickly, at least in my position, is in courting.”

“Oh.” Bilbo knows his eyes are wide and his mouth is open in surprise. “Oh. So if we were any other people we- we would be-“

“Yes.” Thorin says quietly and he almost looks to be in pain as he meets Bilbo’s eyes. “You see… Bilbo, I should not be addressing you thus. It appears improper. Thank Mahal it has only been between us, for if the others were to hear it-“

“They would think we were courting.” Bilbo said, a blush working its way onto his own face now. “I see.”

Thorin meets his eyes and Bilbo loses his breath at the openness displayed in them. The vulnerable honesty. “Do you?”

It takes several moments before Bilbo answers. “Yes.” He breathes, the realization striking him suddenly. “I think I do.”

For a second Bilbo’s eyes drop to Thorin’s mouth. For a second he wants- he wants-

Thorin shifts forward, causing Bilbo to blink and lean back reflexively. The moment breaks and they both look to the fire.

“So, dwarves rarely use first names with one another.” Bilbo sums up eventually, breaking the fragile silence. “Should I stop calling you all by your first names? It seems strange to do it now.”

Thorin shakes his head. “Not if you don’t want to. It’s different, as you’re not a dwarf yourself, and they’re not in line for a throne.” His smile turns wry. “Kíli and Fíli are just sloppy with manners. The rest call you by your name already,” for a second Thorin’s eyes flashed. “There is no reason to stop now. Especially, as you pointed out, after all we have been through. You are considered a dear friend to many of them.”

Bilbo almost asks if that’s why Thorin has begun saying it, but he holds the question back. For some reason he thinks it would be hurtful.

He also refuses to think of the implications of this conversation on their situation at all.

“So, names and Khuzdul.” Bilbo says. “Is there anything else important to dwarves? Secrets that you keep from the rest of us?”

Thorin contemplates the question for a few moments, eyes moving to check the others are still asleep before he answers. “Our One, of course, and Iglishmek.” He says and Bilbo nods. “And then there are… our secret names.”

Bilbo’s eyes widen. “Secret names?”

Thorin nods, not meeting his eyes and instead watching the fire. It sends sparks floating in the air towards them, falling to land at their feet. “Every dwarf is born knowing their secret name. It is a gift from Mahal, usually representing a truth of who we are, some innate part of ourselves. To tell it to anyone else is a precious thing, not taken lightly. Only a few people, if any, are usually given that gift. Some never share it at all.”

Bilbo can’t look away from Thorin. “So, everyone here… all has a secret name that possibly no one else knows?”

Thorin nods.

“That means you have one?”

Another nod, after a slight hesitation. 

“Wow.” Bilbo breathes, leaning back a bit. He desperately wants to ask, but will not. There are lines one does not cross, and he feels like he and Thorin have crossed enough boundaries already. Some would think they actually were courting, given their intimate conversations and behaviour towards one another.

Bilbo shies away from the thought.

“Can I ask,” he begins and he sees Thorin’s eyes shoot to his immediately, watches the King tense before he finishes, “who have you told yours to?”

Thorin relaxes immediately. “My parents knew. And my younger brother Frerin.” Thorin frowns. “The only one left alive who knows it is my sister, Dís.”

Bilbo’s voice is full of surprise. “So few.”

“As I said, it is not something we share lightly. Only to those we trust beyond question.”

Bilbo nods, contemplating. “Is knowing about these names common knowledge outside of dwarves? I’ve never heard of anything like that before.”

“No, it is another secret, as is Khuzdul.” Thorin says, looking at Bilbo out of the corner of his eye. “Though I know you’ve picked up a few words of that.”

Bilbo blushes and stutters. “Not- I don’t- I’m sorry, I’m merely curious. I’m quite good with languages usually and you all speak it all the time. After this long it’s impossible not to know a few things.”

Thorin smiles. “If it were up to me Bilbo, I would allow you to learn it. But it is forbidden for a dwarf to teach our language to any outside our race.” He suddenly purses his lips, looking skyward in thought.

Bilbo looks down, unable to stop his own disappointment. “Of course.”

“You have already bore witness to much that none but dwarves have seen or know of.” Thorin offers and Bilbo looks back up. The gaze that meets his is warm and sympathetic. “You do not realize it perhaps, but the rest of our Company does.”

“I suppose I should thank you for that.”

Thorin blinks. “How so?”

“You’re the one telling me all of these things,” Bilbo says, waving a hand. “And it’s only since the Carrock that the rest of them are treating me with any respect anyway. Before most of them followed your lead and ignored me.”

Thorin winces. “I do apologize for that.”

“And the apology has been accepted.” Bilbo says immediately. “All I’m saying is… I know you’re treating me more than fairly. You’ve been very considerate and forthcoming and I know- I know you could even get in trouble for that. So, thank you. I appreciate it.”

Thorin looks back to the fire before murmuring. “Bilbo, you are just as worthy to me as any dwarf.”

Bilbo looks at him, really looks at him without feeling self conscious or guilty, and he feels a sudden pang. Sitting in the light of the fire, his hair still freshly groomed from Lake-Town, clothes mended and fresh, Thorin looks every bit a King.

Entirely out of Bilbo’s reach.

But this conversation, and the ones they have shared this entire journey proves that isn’t strictly true. Thorin has been more honest with him than the other dwarves, sharing the dwarf secrets that other races aren’t supposed to know, and Bilbo treasures that. He does realize the significance of these gestures, of Thorin using his first name, and if he were a braver hobbit perhaps he might even do something about it.

For now, he smiles, warm and genuine and decides to let things go where they may. First, they’ll face the dragon and he’ll help the dwarves reclaim their home. After that… he supposes they’ll just have to see what happens.

The next morning, they begin the climb up the stairs, packs heavy against their backs as they keep moving, step by step. They all seem to have a renewed vigor and they eat while climbing, making it to the top just after lunch.

Then it is up to the others to try and find the keyhole.

Bilbo watches the panic rise in their faces and as daylight fades he feels the fear fill him as well. If they’d done something wrong… he can’t imagine coming all this way, going through so much, only to be stopped because they can’t find the door.

“If that elf has deceived us…” He hears Thorin mutter and Bilbo has to bite his lip, trying to convince himself that Lord Elrond wouldn’t do such a thing.

By the time the sun sets the dwarves are standing in numb shock and disbelief.

“No!” Thorin moves to the door, trying one last time to push it open before pulling out the map and looking again. “The last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.” He repeats the phrase brokenly, holding the map out as if asking them all to check. “That is what it says.”

Bilbo swallows.

Their King looks at them all desperately. “What did we miss?”

Bilbo meets Thorin’s look powerlessly. This is not his area of expertise, and even if it was he suspects he would be just as lost as the others.

Balin shakes his head helplessly and Thorin walks towards him, voice lowering to a whispered plea. “What did we miss?” He looks at the older dwarf with need in his eyes. “Balin?”

“We’ve lost the light.” Balin says to him, voice brooking no argument as it states the fact. “There’s no more to be done. We had but one chance. Come on my lads. It’s over.”

The others start to leave, all of them moving as one towards the stairs.

All but Thorin and Bilbo.

“Wait a minute.” The hobbit starts, looking back as they all begin the descent. Bombur returns the look, looking just as confused but moving to go down the stairs anyway.

They can’t just be giving up, surely? After everything? This is their home, there has to be another way. Lord Elrond wouldn’t have lied, they couldn’t just leave! What if there was something else? A trick? The door must open somehow, they’d obviously missed something.

“Where are they going?” Bilbo asks Thorin, who is still staring at where the door should be. “We can’t give up now!”

Bilbo sees Thorin turning away and walking towards him- towards the staircase.

The key falls from his hand and Bilbo looks into the dwarf’s face in shock. “Thorin.” He says dumbfounded, not believing what he’s seeing. Thorin would never give up, not like this.

But he is. Without saying anything he slaps the map into Bilbo’s chest and Bilbo grips it automatically. Thorin brushes past him to follow Dwalin down the stairs.

“We can’t give up now.” Bilbo says, almost as a question. He doesn’t understand how the dwarves could just stop, just like that. This is their home and all of them are walking away from it with slumped shoulders and defeat etched into their very frames.

Nobody answers him and Bilbo looks at the door helplessly.

He stays like that for what must be ages. Long enough for the sky to darken and the moon to come out.

Long enough for the moonlight to land on the wall of stone, coming to center itself on a small, barely noticeable hole. One in the shape of a key.

“The last light,” he stammers happily, a huge smile breaking out on his face. His breath comes faster from his excitement and he turns to shout behind him. “The keyhole!”

He runs over to look over the ledge at where the dwarves must undoubtedly be near the bottom of the staircase by now, or already at it. “Come back! Come back! It’s the light of the moon, the last moon of autumn!”

He can’t stop the laugh that escapes him as he looks up, bathed in the moonlight that shines strongly down on the little ledge.

“The key.” He remembers. Thorin had dropped it here and in case the moon shifted or a cloud came he’d best put the key in quickly. In case the keyhole was lost once more. “Where’s the key- where’s the-“

He turns around, looking for it quickly, haste making him take less caution than he should. “It was just-“

Bilbo feels the cool touch of metal against his bare skin an instant before he kicks it, making it bounce away towards the ledge.

He doesn’t even have time to cry out and curse his own stupidity before Thorin’s boot stomps down on the string, leaving the key dangling over the edge.

(Bilbo doesn’t realize it at the time, but the fact that Thorin had been so quick to reappear must have meant the dwarf hadn’t been far down the staircase to begin with.)

Their eyes meet in a loaded look, both of them thanking the gods for Thorin’s quick reaction. The dwarf bends down slowly, reaching to grip the key tightly in his fingers so there was no chance of it falling.

The other dwarves appear as Thorin stands back up but Bilbo is only looking at him. His look is returned when Thorin meets his eyes, a soft smile spreading across his face.

When he moves forward Bilbo steps hastily out of the way, allowing full view of the hole in the wall. Thorin sends him a grateful look, but it’s fleeting as he turns back to the stone, and Bilbo watches from behind him as the key is inserted into the lock and turned slowly.

They all hear the mechanism holding the door in place unlock and Thorin hesitantly presses his hands against the smooth surface and pushes.

All of them stand in awed silence as the slab of stone swings inwards.

“Erebor.” Thorin says quietly and Balin moves up behind him.

There are tears in the other dwarf’s eyes and emotion in his voice as he says quietly, “Thorin.”

Whatever else he had meant to say is lost and Bilbo looks between Thorin and Balin, catching the shared glance that passes. This moment, the one they’d been waiting so long for, was bound to feel bittersweet.

He looks around at all of the dwarves, seeing their wide eyes, the smiles breaking across their faces. Dwalin’s actually looks a little watery, bless him.

Bilbo hears Thorin’s hushed whisper as he takes a few steps inside, sees Balin shaking with emotion and a lump wells in his throat.

They’d done it. They were in.

When he enters he looks up to where Glóin’s gaze is caught on the picture above. The scene etched in the stone shows a throne, and above it a jewel that shines brilliant light over the entire room.

“What’s that?” He asks and Balin, who is beside him, answers.

“That is the Arkenstone.”

“And what is that?”

“That, Master Burglar, is why you are here.” Thorin comes up to them and Bilbo looks over. “Are you ready?”

Something passes between the two of them, something that even Bilbo couldn’t identify. Whatever it is, it reassures him and the nerves that have been sparking in his veins finally calm down. Determination fills him instead.

Bilbo looks back towards the picture. Finally, he nods.

“I’ll take you down then, shall I?” Balin says. “Give you a bit of an idea of what you’re looking for?”

Bilbo swallows his sudden disappointment, unable to stop his eyes from seeking out Thorin, who’s frowning as well. Their eyes meet and after a few moments the dwarf inclines his head.

“Burglar.” The hobbit looks back over his shoulder at Thorin. “Remember what I told you last night.”

To the rest it must sound like a warning, but to Bilbo it’s a reassurance. Even if he doesn’t find this Arkenstone, it will be fine. As long as he doesn’t die.

“I’ll remember.” He promises and then he’s turning around to walk deeper into the mountain with Balin.

oooOOOooo

Even Dwalin is getting a bit uneasy when several hours pass and there’s no sound from the mountain. When they hear the huge crash from inside it does nothing to reassure him, instead only making him look at Thorin along with the others.

“Was that an earthquake?” Dori asks and Dwalin shakes his head quietly.

“That,” Balin says heavily, causing all eyes to shoot to Dwalin’s brother. “My lad, was a dragon.”

It is only because Dwalin happens to glance at Thorin that he sees the look of absolute terror on his face that follows Balin’s words. It’s gone quickly as the King looks towards the open doorway, eyes assessing.

Fire glows from within and all of the dwarves tense.

“What about Bilbo?” Ori asks anxiously, making Dwalin’s attention return to Thorin, who has turned away from them to look back out towards Lake-Town.

“Give him more time.” Their King replied, voice suspiciously uneven.

Dwalin looked at him closer, watching as he avoided their gazes to fiddle with his hands. The emotion in Thorin’s voice could have been determination, aye. Or hope.

But Dwalin had known Thorin a long time and he suspected it was neither.

“Time to do what?” Balin demanded. “To be killed?”

Dwalin’s lips twisted but he agreed with his brother. Thorin was being uncharacteristically hesitant to act, and he knew it wasn’t fear of the dragon keeping him away.

That made Thorin look over at them, eyes meeting Balin’s steadily and an affronted look on his face. “You’re afraid.”

His voice has an undercurrent of doubt in it as well, however, making the accusation weaker than it would have been.

“Yes.” Balin admitted and Dwalin nodded along with his older brother’s words. “I am afraid. I fear for you.” He pointed at Thorin who looked at him with surprise. “A sickness lies upon that treasure horde. A sickness which drove your grandfather mad.”

Thorin looked away. “I am not my grandfather.”

“You’re not yourself.” Balin said, and Dwalin saw Thorin’s face twitch. “The Thorin I know would not hesitate to go in there-”

“I will not risk this quest for the life of one- burglar.” Thorin stares away towards Lake-Town, resolutely not looking at any of them. Dwalin thinks he might have been the only one to hear Thorin hesitate in his answer.

A well of pity fills him. Oh, Thorin. Old friend.

He had suspected- ah, but what did it matter? The mere idea was impossible, surely. Thorin was a King. A dwarf King. An inter-racial marriage in a monarchy would cast doubt in any race, but dwarves, secretive, stubborn and suspicious as they were…

It is just as hopeless of a dream as Kíli and his elf captain.

Dwalin forgets the situation for a moment, sadness for his leader overwhelming him.

“Bilbo.” Balin says, the determination in his voice bringing Dwalin back, his brother’s mouth working as he looks at their King. “His name is Bilbo.”

Dwalin glances between the two, ready to step forward in case the conversation comes to blows. Perhaps he had underestimated the friendship Balin shared with Bilbo. He’d thought his older brother was merely being polite where the others were not but if the hidden anger was anything to go by there was more to it than that.

Thorin breathes out but doesn’t turn, head falling slowly. The faint echoes of a deep voice, a serpent’s hiss, reaches them and Dwalin can’t help a shiver.

“What would you have me do?” Thorin asks them quietly, voice on the verge of sounding helpless. “He knows to come back if he’s in danger. We need the Arkenstone.”

“And if he can’t come back?” Balin demands. “If he’s trapped? Our ancestors could not escape this dragon, Thorin, what makes you think Bilbo will?”

The silence that falls between them is deafening and Dwalin can’t help but step forward. “I’ll go-“

“No.” Thorin’s voice is like a whip and he turns, meeting Dwalin’s eyes. “If any go it shall be me.”

“Thorin-“ Dwalin tries to reason with his old friend but Thorin interrupts him.

“I am the one who sent him in there.” Dwalin’s King is looking at the door, not at him, and there is a look of dread on his face. “I shall go after him.”

“If you were to be killed-“

“I am going.” Thorin said, voice harsher than Dwalin had heard it in a long time. A shocked silence falls among them and Thorin looks at Dwalin apologetically. “I am sorry, old friend. But it has to be me.”

If anything could have confirmed Dwalin’s suspicions it would be those words and he sighs, helpless. Perhaps Thorin sees the realization in his eyes for he turns away towards the others. “If I do not return soon then you may come. But for now, I go alone.”

There is no argument and Thorin leaves, taking a breath and squaring his shoulders before entering the mountain again. Balin comes over to Dwalin and the brothers share a sad look.

“They make quite the pair, don’t they?” The elder asks quietly, and Dwalin nods.

“Aye, a pair of fools.”

“Ah, brother.” Balin sounds sad. “Even you cannot fight against matters of the heart. Unfortunate it may be, but if we all escape this business alive then it’s possible they’ll sort it out.”

Another roar comes from in the mountain, making Dwalin tense further.

“If.” He repeats and his brother’s expression grows even sadder.

“Aye.” Balin nods. “If.”

oooOOOooo

“You are being used, Thief in the Shadows.” Smaug growls lowly, voice getting closer to where Bilbo is hiding behind the pillar. Bilbo is panting hard but nothing could drown out that slithering hiss. He stays quiet, knowing that to speak would be to give away his position. “You were only ever a means to an end. The coward, Oakenshield, has weighed the value of your life and found it worth _nothing_.”

“No.” Bilbo shakes his head and whispers, looking down. It couldn’t be- not after everything he’d seen. Everything he’d felt. His voice strengthens as he shouts, unable to stay silent, needing to deny the doubt rising in him. “No. No, you’re lying!”

( _But you’re still down here, without rescue_ , a voice hisses and Bilbo looks down at the ring, fiddling with it anxiously. _None have even come to check if you’re still alive_.)

 Smaug continues to taunt but Bilbo keeps his mouth closed, knowing even to speak once was foolish. The next chance he gets he rushes over to where the Arkenstone waits, sitting innocently amongst a pile of golden coins.

Smaug whips his tail and Bilbo and the stone go flying. He rolls into one of the many pillars, letting out a quiet sound of pain.

When’s Bilbo’s eye falls on the Arkenstone once more, Smaug is crouching before him. The dragon’s gaze follows to rest on the gem and his voice goes hushed.

“I am almost tempted to let you take it. If only to see Oakenshield suffer. Watch it destroy him. Watch it corrupt his heart.”

Bilbo’s lip quivers, ever so slightly.

“And drive him mad. But I think not. I think our little game ends here. So tell me, thief, how do you choose to die?” The dragon glides towards him, mouth opening wide, and Bilbo shoves the ring on and runs, scooping up the Arkenstone as quickly as he can.

The dragon rages behind him but Bilbo keeps going, stopping only for a second to catch his breath and take the ring off before he runs up the stairs.

Relief fills him when he runs up and spots Thorin.

He had come. Bilbo had known- well, he knew Thorin wouldn’t abandon him.

Thorin turns from looking out over the wealth of gold to come towards Bilbo.

“You’re alive.” Thorin says in relief and Bilbo shakes his head. Time for emotional reunions later, there’s an angry dragon looking for him and he’d rather get out of this mountain before stopping for any reason.

“Not for much longer!” He runs up to Thorin, intending on making his way back out to the rest of their friends.

“Did you find the Arkenstone?”

“The dragon-“ Bilbo starts trying to warn him but he’s cut off shortly.

“The Arkenstone?” Thorin demands and Bilbo looks up at him, alarmed at the dwarf’s intensity. He even forgets about Smaug for a second and stops, seeing a strange glint growing in Thorin’s eye.

The weight of the gem is heavy in his jerkin and Bilbo swallows as Thorin’s voice grows quieter. “Did you find it?”

Instead of giving him the stone right away Bilbo’s mind races, taking in his friend. The strange look in his eye is frightening somehow, sinister, making Bilbo’s stomach twist, and a menacing look is coming over Thorin’s face.

He hesitates for too long and he sees the exact moment Thorin’s eyes grow suspicious. “No, we have to get out.” The hobbit says quickly, but Thorin’s blade comes up to stop him from going any further.

Bilbo looks over at Thorin, a mixture of surprise, hurt and dread filling him as the other man studies him. The sword moves from barring Bilbo’s way to forcing him backwards, the sword’s tip pointing just in front of Bilbo’s chest.

“Thorin.” He says in shock, backing up unsteadily. The glint in Thorin’s eyes is more pronounced now and he can’t help but look at his friend with trepidation. “Thorin.”

It is a strange moment and he is loathe to admit the single bolt of fear that goes through him at the blankness on Thorin’s face. The single-minded intensity.

But Smaug catches his gaze over Thorin’s shoulder and so he doesn’t see Thorin’s sudden confusion, or the way he shakes off whatever had come over him. He only knows Thorin has seen Smaug when his blade falls from pointing at Bilbo.

Then all of the dwarves are running out and there is no time to reflect on what just happened. Bilbo backs away quickly and all of them run just in time. He shoots Thorin several looks, noticing the confusion along with determination to get away on their leader’s face.

Something in Bilbo clenches painfully and fear from more than a dragon is filling him. Lord Elrond’s words from Rivendell, questioning whether Thorin would fall to the dragon sickness, comes back to him and he keeps the stone firmly in his jerkin, out of sight.

Just for now, he tells himself.

When they make it to the room littered with fallen dwarves Bilbo finally feels the loss of Erebor keenly. He’s busy regaining his breath, letting logic replace the blind panic and adrenaline that had filled him, but it doesn’t erase the sight he sees.

Seeing the dead all laying there, a small group, alone and left behind, truly drives home what the day Smaug came must have been like for them all. For Thorin.

Thorin’s plan may get them all killed, but at least they will not die like this. Bilbo agrees with the King, he would rather die fighting than waiting, starving to death and begging for any chance of life. Thorin’s plan is the best they have.

“We make for the forges.”

“He’ll see us.” Dwalin says immediately, a heavy grief in his voice. “Sure as death.”

“Not if we split up.”

“Thorin.” Balin’s voice is sad. “We’ll never make it.”

“Some of us might.” Thorin is looking each of them in the eye. “Lead him to the forges. We kill the dragon. If this is to end in fire, then we will all burn together.”

Bilbo looks around at all the dwarves and finally Balin nods. “Very well. It’s our only hope. We split up. Groups of three or two.”

Immediately Ori goes to Dori, and Bombur shuffles over to them to complete the trio. Dwalin and Balin share a look but Balin jerks his head towards Thorin. Dwalin nods in silent understanding and the two share a headbutt similar to the one they’d done back in Bag-End.

“Bilbo,” Thorin says quietly in the silence, and to anyone else it might sound like a command but Bilbo hears the question in his friend’s tone. “With me?”

Thorin’s eyes still hold that slightly confused look, as if even he doesn’t understand what happened back in the gold littered hall. More than that though, is the intensity that always fills Thorin’s eyes when he looks at Bilbo and Bilbo knows that if they are about to die, he would do it by his King’s side.

Bilbo nods, standing straighter. What had happened between them earlier is forgotten, pushed away in this moment of desperation. “Of course.”

“I’ll be coming with you both.” Balin says and Thorin nods.

Dwalin and Nori stand side by side, a look shared between them that Bilbo feels he needs to look away from, while Bifur goes towards Glóin and that’s it. The groups are made.

Thorin looks around at them all. “Come on then.”

After escaping Smaug once more their group reaches a tunnel and Balin veers into it while Thorin runs ahead, making Bilbo slow down.

“This way! It’s this way!” Balin calls from behind them and Bilbo stops to turn. “Come on!”

“Thorin!” Bilbo calls and looks ahead once more. The dwarf finally stops and looks back.

Smaug appears a moment later, making all three of them look past where Balin waits in the tunnel to watch the dragon as he comes towards them.

Bilbo sends a nervous look towards Thorin who meets it immediately. “Follow Balin!” He orders and Bilbo walks backwards into the tunnel to the white-haired dwarf.

“Thorin-“ He tries to call, asking why he isn’t coming with them, but Balin pulls him back and Smaug breathes out a wave of flame before he can finish.

All he hears is Thorin yell and then Smaug is running after the dwarf who has disappeared over the edge, making Bilbo yell out once more. “Thorin!”

“Come on, laddie.” Balin tugs at him but Bilbo tries to shrug out of his grip.

“But Thorin-“

“Nothing we can do, we head to the forges.” Balin says determinedly and Bilbo stops struggling to take in his face, there is worry there, and fear, but more than that a painful resignation.

It occurs to him that Balin has done this before. He has run from a dragon, ignoring even the people he loves most to make it out to safety.

Bilbo nods. They go to the forges.

Seeing Thorin run in with Nori minutes later is the biggest relief Bilbo’s felt since- well since knowing Thorin had survived at the Carrock probably.

After that it all moves rather quickly. Before the hour is out Smaug has left to fly to Lake-Town.

Within the night the dragon is killed. Bilbo looks around at the celebrating dwarves and spots the one he’d been looking for already walking away, back towards the mountain.

oooOOOooo

Bilbo finds Thorin in front of the throne. The others are celebrating, a few even singing and dancing, but Thorin does not feel in the mood for festivity, despite all that has taken place. He is looking at the throne, remembering the days when his grandfather sat there, with his father standing by his side and Thorin standing at his.

Those days had been long ago.

“We’ve done it, Master Baggins.” Thorin says without turning around. He knows the sound of those feet behind him. “We’ve taken back Erebor.”

“I can’t imagine what it must feel like.” Bilbo’s voice is full of wonder and Thorin smiles in pride at the awe his home inspires.

“It is impossible to describe.” Thorin agrees, finally circling to face him.

A confliction of feelings rises up in him at the sight of the hobbit. Only last night he had sent Bilbo in here and nearly let him die from Smaug. Thorin had threatened Bilbo with his own sword, sure that he had found the Arkenstone and was keeping it from him.

It had been an unexplainable moment for Thorin. He could not rationalize his actions. All he had known was he had been sure, absolutely certain, that Bilbo was hiding the gem from him.

It was only after seeing Smaug that he had snapped out of whatever strange haze had clouded his mind.

Bilbo was seemingly lost in thought and did not notice Thorin’s misgivings.

“I wish to apologize to you.” Thorin says finally, coming to stand closer to his friend. “For my actions when I came to find you last night. I… do not know what came over me.”

Bilbo snaps out of whatever he’d been thinking of to look at him. “Oh.” He says in surprise. “Yes, it was rather odd.” His eyes search Thorin’s and the dwarf is happy when he sees the hobbit relax at whatever he finds there. “Let’s chalk it up to stress and lack of sleep, shall we?”

Thorin’s lips twitch. “You are too generous.”

Bilbo shrugs. “You didn’t hurt me.” He says. “I was just surprised.”

Thorin nods. “I did not mean to doubt your intentions. Believe me when I say I do not feel that way now. It was a moment of insecurity.”

The hobbit nods and Thorin finally relaxes as well, ignoring the lingering doubt at the edges of his own mind.

“Would you come with me?” He asks and Bilbo nods to follow him, his face overcome with interest.

Thorin leads him to a hallway of rooms, all well-spaced from one another. All incredibly familiar. He hesitates only a bit before pushing open one of the doors and leading Bilbo inside.

His old bedroom greets him and for a second Thorin forgets Bilbo is there as the hobbit looks around curiously. Thorin takes in the layer of dust coating everything, the old bed and its sheets of dark blue, the dresser with old hair beads and combs sitting innocently.

He walks over to the bedside table and picks up one of several framed portraits that are sitting on it.

“These are your old rooms.” Bilbo says finally, voice quiet.

“Aye.”

The hobbit turns around, taking it all in once more. “Huh.”

Thorin sets down the family drawing and turns to look at him. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just.” Bilbo clears his throat. “Well, they’re barer than I thought they would be.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “You expected trinkets and tapestries?”

Bilbo shrugs. “I don’t know what I expected. But I like this.”

Thorin feels a glow of happiness at the words. “I’m glad they have garnered your approval,” he murmurs teasingly and Bilbo rolls his eyes.

“Come. There’s more I wish to show you.”

“I’m not about to see your private toilet, am I?”

Thorin laughs as they leave his chambers. “No, Bilbo. I would save that for tomorrow, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” Bilbo agrees easily, his smile light and carefree.

When they reach the royal library Bilbo gasps at the sheer amount of books that greets them. The room is huge and the walls are filled with volumes, their spines sticking out to display the titles teasingly. “Oh, Thorin…”

Thorin grins, pleased that his assumptions had been correct. Bilbo had mentioned he liked books only a few times. “You are free to read what you wish, of course.”

When Bilbo brings down a book and flips it open he frowns. Quickly he replaces it and repeats the action with a new book, and then another. When he turns around he’s still frowning. “These are all in Khuzdul.”

“Not all of them.” Thorin promises. “There are even duplicate copies, some in Westron and some in Khuzdul.”

Bilbo’s eyes widen and Thorin internally preens again. His hobbit was quick to catch on. “But- you do realize that-“

“You could end up teaching yourself the language?” Thorin muses out loud and he smiles at Bilbo’s grin. “I suppose that’s true. But I should trust you would never do such a thing, yes?”

Bilbo’s grinning so wide it must be hurting his face.

Thorin shakes his head happily. “It is forbidden for a dwarf to teach any other race our language. If a member of another race was to learn it on their own however-“

“Thank you.” Bilbo’s voice is breathless and his eyes are shining. “Oh, Thorin. Thank you.”

He bows his head. “It must remain a secret only to you, of course.” He says. “You may not share it with any other hobbits. Or men or elves.”

Bilbo nods quickly. “Of course. Thorin, truly, this means… it means more than I could tell you.”

Thorin’s smile is too wide to be hidden by his stubble any longer. “I am glad. You deserve something for helping us reclaim our home. Something more… personal than treasure.”

Bilbo’s face, so happy moments ago, falls almost imperceptibly. Thorin blinks at the sudden change and the hobbit appears to be lost in his thoughts.

What could he have said?

“I…” He trails off but Bilbo looks up at him. “What is it?”

He moves towards the hobbit, hoping to reassure him or apologize for whatever was troubling him now.

Bilbo seemed not to notice, lost in thought once more before he said, “I suppose I’ll never see any of you again. After this is over.”

Thorin blinks and blinks again twice more in rapid succession, trying to make sense of the words.

If it was what Bilbo wanted- and Thorin knew he missed the Shire- then he supposed it was true. After the Arkenstone was found and the treasure divided there would be no official reason for the hobbit to stay and he doubted any of the dwarves of the Company would be travelling near the Shire. It was doubtful Bilbo would make the arduous journey to return all that way just to come visit.

No, if he wanted to leave it was doubtful they would see one another again. 

Technically he could leave now, having fulfilled the contract. Maybe Bilbo thought he wasn’t welcome here. Maybe he saw no reason to stay after the treasure was divided.

Thorin frowned, ignoring the ache in his chest.

But was that what Bilbo wanted? What Thorin wanted?

He had to at least make sure the hobbit knew that there were other options. That an invitation was open to him.

“Bilbo.”

Thorin allowed his voice to become soft, for Bilbo’s ears alone. The hobbit looked up at him, eyes wide and alert.

“There shall always be a place for you at Erebor if you wish it.”

Bilbo’s mouth opened. “But- I- I’m not a dwarf.”

Thorin smiled at him. “You have done more to help us reclaim Erebor than any dwarf outside this Company. Some could argue you’ve done more than any of us all. I would have you know that if you decide it is what you want, you can stay here. All of us would welcome you.” He cleared his throat. “Though I would understand if you do not want to.”

Bilbo seems shocked, his mouth open in surprise and unable to speak.

Thorin smiles at him again the best he can. “No need to answer now, of course. Just know the offer stands.”

Bilbo’s mouth snaps closed and he nods.

The two of them look at the books in the room for a while longer, Bilbo idly reading the titles he can and excitedly murmuring to himself when he cannot. Thorin watches him, proud of the happiness his idea has brought, the warmth from before making itself known once again.

They leave when it nears lunchtime and discover the others had found old caches of ale, wine and other drink. Even Thorin cannot resist celebrating with the others and if his hand finds it’s way to sometimes rest on Bilbo’s shoulder, or the small of his back or even, memorably, his upper leg briefly, well. None but them are the wiser.

oooOOOooo

The first day after Smaug had died had set Bilbo at ease.

He cursed himself for being so easy to lull into a false sense of confidence.

The three days after bringing Bilbo to the library, Thorin does not leave the gold-filled hallways. The other dwarves either don’t notice the odd behaviour or are too blindly loyal to say anything, but Bilbo grows worried. He catches Thorin muttering to himself as he scans the floor for the Arkenstone, catches that strange glint in his eye more and more often.

Even Kíli and Fíli arriving with Bofur and Óin don’t seem to impact Thorin at all. Soon they seem just as caught up in the treasure as the others.

Bilbo is somehow the only one to escape Thorin’s ire as the search for the Arkenstone continues. It seems after his initial mistrust, Thorin has decided Bilbo alone will not betray him. He does not get angry at Bilbo when the hobbit chooses to go to the library instead of searching for the stone. When any other dwarf so much as takes a bathroom break the King snaps at him to keep looking, but Bilbo is pardoned. Perhaps Thorin doesn’t consider it Bilbo’s job. Whatever the reason, Thorin begins to favour Bilbo over the others.

Sometimes Bilbo glimpses the old Thorin when he brings the King plates of food, reminding him to eat, or a blanket when it becomes apparent Thorin will not be led to rest somewhere unless Bilbo practically forces him away when he’s too tired to search anymore.

Somehow Bilbo ends up being the only one Thorin allows near his throne. The others notice but don’t say anything, and Bilbo isn’t sure whether to be grateful for that. He would like to talk to someone about all of this. To ask for advice of how to use his unique place in Thorin’s trust to bring their King back to them all. To ask them what it all means because even though he knows Thorin is sick, a part of him hopes…

He misses Gandalf particularly badly in those few days.

During Thorin’s confrontation with Balin and Dwalin, Bilbo see that finally at least a couple of the others now notice what has been worrying him since the night with Smaug.

Balin is the one to confirm his fears. “Dragon sickness.” The old dwarf says it like a curse.

Bilbo fidgets, he can’t help it, the nervous energy has to get out somehow. He takes a few steps towards his friend, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Balin, if- if Thorin had the Arkenstone.” He gives the dwarf a significant look, watching the understanding dawn in his friend’s eyes. “Or if… if it was found. Would it help?”

Bilbo doesn’t know for certain why he’d kept it hidden for so long. Part of it was he feared what Thorin would do once he actually had the stone, scared it would make whatever was happening worse. Another part of him wanted to keep it for himself. It would be fair, wouldn’t it? Keeping it as his fourteenth share?

_Fair_ , the voice of the ring in his pocket seemed to whisper. _Yes, more than fair. Justified. Expected._

But now Bilbo was growing desperate. He was unable to deny the change that had come over Thorin any longer and anything he could do to make the dwarf return to normal, he would.

“That stone crowns all. It is the summit of this great wealth, bestowing power upon he who bears it. Would it stay his madness?” Balin’s voice turns sad. “No laddie. I fear it will make it worse.”

For the first time horror creeps in to wrap insidiously around Bilbo’s heart.

“Perhaps it is best,” Balin advises significantly. “If it remains lost.”

oooOOOooo

When Thorin catches Bilbo with his acorn the dwarf feels grounded and in control of himself like he has not in days. It’s been strange, the haze that has come to surround his mind. He is so focused on the Arkenstone, so determined to find it, that he sometimes finds himself snapping at the others without being able to stop.

Seeing the little acorn in Bilbo’s palm brings him back to the present as he looks up to meet the hobbit’s eyes.

“You’ve carried it all this way.” Thorin says, and a surge of affection fills him. He had thought he could not admire Bilbo more but, once again, the hobbit has managed to surprise him.

Bilbo swallows, shifting a bit self-consciously. “I’m going to plant it in my garden. Back at Bag-End.”

Thorin is hit with a pang, the reminder of Bilbo leaving is unpleasant and unwanted. It seemed that even with Thorin’s invitation for Bilbo to stay in Erebor the hobbit did not want to leave his home.

The dwarf couldn’t blame him, really. He had worked to get his home back for over a century, knew what it was to be away for too long. It only made sense Bilbo would want to go back to his own.

It did not help the bite Bilbo’s words had.

The sadness is in Thorin’s voice when he speaks and Bilbo is watching him closely. He tries to hide his thoughts, spare Bilbo any guilt or cause for pity. “Tis a poor prize to take back to the Shire.”

It is indeed, but then, Thorin remembered, hobbits cared greatly for nature and gardening. He had learned a long time ago that it was not thoughts of treasure that drove Bilbo, but this here proved it.

(He wonders if acorns mean anything in the garden language Bilbo had mentioned on their journey.)

Thorin has suspected for a while now that what he feels for Bilbo is not merely that of a leader to his burglar. It’s not even friendship born from loyalty and trust.

Bilbo leaving is not something he wants to think of. Not now, not ever.

“One day it will grow.” Bilbo says eventually, eyes warm. “And every time I look, I’ll remember. The good, the bad. And how lucky I am that I made it home.”

Thorin smiles at him and if he could he would freeze the moment. Them smiling at each other, understanding flowing between them easily, without words, the ease from before their encounter with Smaug rushing back.

There is so much unsaid between them in that moment but it feels- it feels right. It feels okay and Thorin grows hopeful. Maybe Bilbo would come back, one day, the dwarf thinks as he sees the sudden indecision in his friends eyes. Perhaps what he felt was not completely ridiculous and one-sided after all.

Whatever haze had clouded Thorin lately seems lifted. He suspected it was tiredness and it was funny, in the way ironic and tragic things are bitterly funny, that of course Bilbo was the only one to truly make Thorin feel truly awake anymore.

“Thorin, I-“

“Thorin!” Dwalin interrupts them and Thorin is filled with anger immediately at the interruption. He clenches his jaw. “Survivors from Lake-Town. They’re streaming into Dale. There’s hundreds of them.”

He allows his displeasure to become obvious as he turns to Dwalin. “Call everyone to the gate!” He orders, all thoughts of Bilbo erased from his mind as he leaves to stride and meet the intruders.

oooOOOooo

After Thorin refuses Bard’s terms Bilbo tries to talk sense into him again. (“You cannot go to war”, “This does not concern you.”) He sees Balin hide his face in horror and ire fills Bilbo. If he was not always the only one speaking reason perhaps Thorin would actually listen.

But the others were too blindly loyal to dissent with their King. Only Bilbo, it seemed, had the courage to do so, no matter how much it pained him.

Hours later Bilbo finds Thorin seated on his throne, examining his sword.

“Thorin, don’t be ridiculous.” Bilbo exclaims once the dwarf had spotted him, coming to stand only feet away from where he sat. “Do you not have loved ones on the outside to think of?”

( _“Do you not have loved ones to stay home for, Master Burglar?”_ )

“What about Fíli and Kíli? You would have them go to war?”

Thorin faltered, looking vulnerable for a long moment. He paused in examining his sword, instead looking over at Bilbo. The blue eyes were wide and observant as they ran up and down the hobbit’s small frame and Bilbo resisted the urge to shiver.

“Everything I love is in this mountain.” Thorin answered finally, making Bilbo’s heart thump noticeably. “What I do now is to protect them. To keep them all safe. To keep it safe.”

Fíli and Kíli, Bilbo thinks. The other dwarves. That- of course that was who Thorin had been thinking of. Bilbo hadn’t been sure for a moment.

Frustration fills Bilbo, because now it seems not only is Thorin forgetting to eat and sleep, he has forgotten all reason and the fact that he has a sister somewhere out there as well.

“It?” Bilbo asks, delayed in hearing the last sentence.

“The treasure, of course. And the Arkenstone, when we find it. Make no mistake, Bilbo, there will be those who try to take it from us. It must be guarded.”

Bilbo nods, swallowing hard and looking down at his feet as he takes a deep breath to ignore the pain in his chest. “Of course.”

Thorin moves towards him and Bilbo holds his breath, waiting. He feels the warmth emanating from the dwarf, that’s how close they are to one another. “I will not allow what is mine to be taken. Nothing will ever do that to me, not even a dragon. Certainly not these greedy men. Not again.”

Bilbo nods again, slightly frantic this time, trying to ignore the panicking fear rising in him. “Right.”

When Thorin doesn’t reply he looks up, only to find his friend already looking down at him, eyes soft.

“Do not worry, _Âzyungûn_.” Thorin’s words are warm. “All will be well. I have a plan to see us all safe.”

Bilbo shakes his head. “It’s not- that’s not what I’m worried about.”

Thorin cocks his head in question and Bilbo meets his eyes. “I- I worry for you, Thorin.”

The dwarf’s gaze turns slightly wondrous and Bilbo knows he’s missed what he was trying to say.

“You are- a rare creature, Bilbo.” Thorin says finally, haltingly. The words are like stones cracking against one another they come out so rough and Bilbo fills with surprise at the sudden turn in the conversation. “Don’t think I don’t realize- that I do not appreciate all you have done. Especially considering how I first treated you.”

Bilbo blinks and is surprised to find tears appearing in his eyes. “Thorin-“

“I have never met anybody like you.” Thorin’s breath gusts down, warming Bilbo’s skin on his face. He suspects he might be blushing. “You- amaze me.”

Bilbo can’t help his eyes dropping to Thorin’s lips, nor does he miss the way Thorin inhales sharply and then halts his breathing in anticipation. He’s seen Bilbo’s wandering gaze, finally, after all this time.

The hobbit blinks again, getting the tears under control, and steps back. Both to stop himself from doing something truly stupid- even more stupid than facing a dragon- and to make Thorin comfortable again.

There was too much going on, too many things uncertain that could pose a risk, for Bilbo to do something so rash.

A flicker of pain crosses the King’s face as Bilbo steps back again, and he feels his heart crack before he presses his lips together. “I’ll just be going then-“

“Bilbo.” Thorin calls. He sounds almost desperate but he sounds like Thorin again until he hesitates. When he speaks again, close to a minute later, his voice is back to the new normal, gruff and cold, and he rolls his shoulders before turning away to sit back on his throne. “I mean it.”

Bilbo can’t help but ask. “Mean what?”

Thorin settles back in his seat, hands resting on the armrests with his fingers curled, robes settled around him. His face is no longer open and honest, instead it is the mask he wore the first night Bilbo met him. The crown glints menacingly. “All of it,” he replies and Bilbo doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or overjoyed.

So he just leaves.

oooOOOooo

He makes one last attempt to reason with Thorin as the dwarves ready themselves for battle.

Bilbo wanders over to them in the armoury and Thorin spots him immediately. He calls him over while holding up a shirt of metal links, which Bilbo glances at curiously before meeting Thorin’s eyes through the silver’s fine holes.

“You’re going to need this.” Thorin tells him, holding the mail towards Bilbo. “Put it on.”

With a questioning look Bilbo does so and the armour slides down his arms like water, hanging well past his knees. It’s lighter than it looks and he holds his arms up experimentally. The sleeves end past his hands.

The others have gone quiet, watching the two of them intently. Some have looks of outrage, others of disbelief and the rest look resigned, but none of them say a word.

Bilbo doesn’t notice. He has eyes only for Thorin, unsure of the implications of this gift.

Thorin speaks again. “This vest is made of silver steel. Mithril, it was called by my forebears. No blade can pierce it.”

Bilbo looks at him sharply in surprise and sees the warmth in Thorin’s gaze. Surely this gift was better suited for one of Thorin’s nephews- or Thorin himself. Giving it to him…

When he looks back down at himself he laughs, unable to bear the mixture of feelings that the previous suspicion brought him. “I look absurd! I’m not a warrior, I’m a hobbit.”

Thorin’s eyes grow softer. “It is a gift. A token of our friendship.”

Bilbo decides that if Thorin could always be like this then Bilbo would come back to Erebor. Truly he would. He doesn’t think he would be able to stay away.

Again, Bilbo’s heart gives that hopeful thump but it is ruined moments later when Thorin’s face darkens and he looks back at the other dwarves. Whatever this moment was, whatever this gift symbolized, it was broken by the paranoia and suspicion that was plain to see in Thorin.

“True friends are hard to come by,” Thorin roughly drags Bilbo a few steps away and he winces at the dwarf’s strong grip. “I have been blind, but now I begin to see. I am betrayed!”

Panic grips Bilbo and he feels the Arkenstone heavy in his shirt. “Betrayed?”

“The Arkenstone!” Thorin growls and Bilbo feels his stomach drop. “One of them has taken it. One of them… is false.”

Bilbo swallows, relief filling him just as quickly as sadness does. He thinks quickly, trying to bring reason back to his friend. “Thorin, the quest is fulfilled. You’ve won the mountain.” Hopelessness trickles into his voice as he stares up pleadingly. “Is that not enough?”

Thorin does not seem to be listening. “Betrayed by my own kin…”

Bilbo tries a different tactic. “N-no. You made a promise to the people of Lake-town. I-is this treasure truly worth more than your honor? _Our_ honor, Thorin? I was also there, I gave my word.”

Thorin blinks and for a second Bilbo thinks he may have struck a chord. But Thorin’s smile is not genuine when he looks at Bilbo. “For that, I am grateful. It was nobly done. But the treasure in this mountain does not belong to the people of Lake-town. This gold is ours, and ours alone. On my life I will not part with a single coin. Not one piece of it.”

Bilbo misses the implications of that. He doesn’t realize that Thorin giving him the mithril but refusing to part with any of the treasure means that, to Thorin at least, Bilbo would not be leaving.

The hobbit is busy with other thoughts. Amongst the crushing pain Bilbo felt at the words he finally makes up his mind. The helplessness overcame whatever hope had remained and Bilbo realized all he could think of to do to fix this was the one thing Thorin might not be able to forgive.

Whatever glimpses of Thorin that showed when he and Bilbo were alone was not enough to bring him out of his madness. Not enough to spare them all war.

He gives the Arkenstone to Thranduil and Bard that night with a heavy heart, and it is only because he knows with certainty that Thranduil will trade the stone for his coveted gems and Bard will trade it for coin that he does. If there had been even a doubt of Thorin getting it back he never would have done such a thing.

The betrayal still eats at him and he feels guilt weighing down his every thought as he goes back to rejoin his friends.

That does not stop Thorin from reacting worse than Bilbo had ever thought he would.

Had he known the dwarf would be angry? Of course, he wasn’t completely naïve, and he liked to think he knew the King Under the Mountain at least a little bit.

But he had meant it when he’d told Gandalf he wasn’t scared of Thorin. He truly hadn’t been because he had been certain, even knowing about the dragon sickness and how dear the Arkenstone was to the dwarf, he’d been certain that Thorin would never hurt him. Be angry at him, yes. Be hurt and perhaps send him away? Yes. Even feel betrayed and threaten him.

He had never expected to be held over the edges of the makeshift rampart by the dwarf everyone near him called King.

Not by Thorin. Never.

Yet here they were.

There was nothing but cold betrayal and ruthless, uncaring anger in those once soft blue eyes, and Bilbo closes his own eyes in fear.

(“ _You_?...You would steal from me?”, “I'm willing to let it stand against my claim.”, "Against your claim? Your claim. You have no claim over _me_ , you miserable rat!”, “Do not speak to me of loyalty! Throw him from the rampart!”, “I will do it myself! Curse you!”)

You are going to die, Bilbo thinks to himself. You are truly going to die because of this. And it is going to be Thorin- _Thorin_ \- who does it. Because Thorin, is too lost to realize what he is doing. He is going to kill you.

Because Bilbo had betrayed him.

“No!” He hears Fíli cry.

His eyes fly open and meet Thorin’s for a moment. Enough to see the hurt pass in them quickly before the rage returns. Bilbo sees it just before Gandalf’s voice cuts through the tension.

Thorin’s attention leaves Bilbo, who is slowly forgotten and lowered again and he gasps before scurrying away quickly, the others pushing him forward. Bofur leads him to the rope and he climbs down, flinching as Thorin replies to the wizard.

“Never again will I have dealings with wizards. Or Shire rats!”

Bilbo would never call what he feels heartbreak as he makes his way to Gandalf, but he suspects that is actually exactly what it is.

oooOOOooo

Thorin breaks free of the dragon sickness too late.

It is much, much too late.

He hears the fighting outside, the screams, and the clash of weapons and bodies falling. His kin is yelling in a hallway or room adjacent to the Hall of Kings he is currently collapsed in, arms wrapped around his shaking torso to try and hold himself together.

How had he allowed things to come to this? There was a war going on and he had- what? Decided to stay inside with cold metal and wait to hear the slaughter of his kin outside?

(He had almost _killed_ Bilbo on the ramparts, he had almost dropped him and wouldn’t have even realized he was killing himself along with the hobbit.  For Mahal’s sake, he had banished Bilbo for being the only one brave enough, the only one who cared enough to try and do something to try and help him out of the mess he was creating.)

Bile rises in his throat and Thorin has never been filled with so much self-loathing as now.

But there is no time for self-hatred, not in this moment at least. Later he can try and fix this mess- though a part of him is terrified to think fixing it will be impossible- but now he must go out and fight for his home.

The relief he sees on his companions faces when he returns to them only confirms how horrible his behaviour had been of late. Again, the disgust at himself is there, but once more it is ignored. Let it fuel his rage, for he will sorely need it in this battle.

He sheds his armor, hating the metal he’s adorned himself with and wishing, foolishly, to return to the dwarf he had been for most of this journey. He had not had armour or riches then, only an oaken shield and Orcrist.

Battle, Thorin realized long ago, moves slowly and then all at once. The beginning is always torturously slow, with each side trying to gain the upper hand. The tide of a battle can change quickly and it always takes the sacrifice of many warriors before it’s possible to even guess at who could win.

Though he is loathe to admit it, Thranduil’s elves are one of the reasons they are all still fighting.

As the dwarves rally Thorin wants to shake his head and yell at them that it is not to him they should look at for courage. He has already let them all down.

Still there is no time, and it is after brief words with Dáin that Thorin leaves with Dwalin, Kíli and Fíli to go and kill Azog for good.

He determinedly has not thought of Bilbo since leaving Erebor’s gates. The hobbit should be far away from this battle and he hopes Gandalf has been wise enough to make sure of that.

So it is a shock when Bilbo suddenly appears behind Dwalin and Thorin to warn them of a second army led by Bolg.

There are an overwhelming amount of things Thorin wants to say to the hobbit. I’m sorry, being chief among them, but it’s more than that. The knowledge that Thorin has betrayed Bilbo too deeply to ever be forgiven is harsh and he looks into the hobbit’s eyes, seeing the pain and wariness in them, and hates himself even more.

But there’s no time and so Thorin must focus. When he realizes Fíli and Kíli are in danger all thoughts of begging for forgiveness are pushed away.

The pain he feels seeing Fíli fall is the same as when he’d watched Frerin killed and Thorin loses all semblance of thought as he makes his way to finally meet Azog on the ice.

The thought gets in his head that if he can kill Azog he can somehow make things right, at least a bit. If he can end this miserable wretch and spare anyone else from the orc then it will prove…

What? That he deserves forgiveness? Thorin knows that’s false.

No, he fights because this monster has taken almost everyone he loves and he will not allow it to take one more. There is Kíli to think of.

The sound of Bilbo’s name resonates in Thorin in time with his heartbeat. Bilbo is here somewhere, hopefully still with Dwalin. Bilbo must also be protected.

The pain when the blade comes through the ice to stab through his foot is excruciating and Thorin scrambles to keep up with Azog as their blades clash once more.

When he is pinned to the ice, the beast’s blade less than an inch from his heart, Thorin realizes that to protect those he loves, he will have to die.

He pictures Kíli, his sisters-son. In his mind’s eye he sees Dís, begging him to survive, making him promise to keep her boys safe. He has already failed her and he is sorry to do it again.

Thorin regrets leaving the Company, each of them special to him in their own way. He wonders if they will mourn him after all he had done lately.

It is only when Thorin thinks of Bilbo, hazel eyes and golden hair along with a pleased smile clear in his memory, that he has the strength to pull Orcrist away and let the blade pierce him.

Mithril would be very handy now he thinks before the pain overwhelms him.

But he is still in control of his mind, and he will not allow his sacrifice to be for nothing. He refuses to fail his people once more and with all the strength he has left, he stabs the beast who has terrorized his line for close to one hundred years, rolling them over to make sure the blade twists deep as he watches the cruel light leave those eyes.

When he staggers up, blood pouring freely from his chest, only held back slightly by the leathers he wears, Thorin looks over the battlefield.

His eyes took in the destruction below. He heard the screaming and crying, watched as wave after wave of soldier clashed against one another and he curses himself because he could have prevented this. Or at least been better prepared. If he had not fallen to the gold sickness…

The orcs would lose. He saw it and he clung to the fact. Despite their overwhelming number, they would lose. Even now without Azog to direct them the orc and goblin armies were falling into disarray.

Erebor would survive. Dale, even Mirkwood, all three kingdoms would survive and win this war.

They would live. His people would live and reclaim their home. It would be brought back to its former glory; better than that, if it had a sound and sensible ruler.

He could die knowing that, he tried to tell himself. He would be happy leaving for Mahal’s Hall knowing that the home he’d fought for was saved.

He tries to tell himself that.

When Bilbo appears he knows it isn’t true.

_I wish we had more time_ , he wants to tell the hobbit as he stares up at his face. _I wish you knew how even lost in the madness as I was, it was you that I could not kill._

Regret is a bitter thing but Thorin can’t help it. He feels cheated, knowing that he found his One before getting the chance to actually be with him.

( _“I just- being alone your whole life after finding the person you want to be with? It’s just sad.”_ )

He is so, so sorry. There aren’t words to describe all he feels.

But Thorin does not want to leave Bilbo in anger or sadness. There is no reason to burden the hobbit further and he is thankful that it is Bilbo with him in his last moments. At least he has that.

“I wish to part from you in friendship.” Thorin says, seeing the scared look in Bilbo’s eyes. He would understand if the hobbit pushed him away, if forgiveness could not be given in these final moments. But he wants Bilbo to know that Thorin did care for him.

There is no reason to make Bilbo uncomfortable with love proclamations when Thorin knows he is about to die. It would be the cruelest thing to do, if he spoke his true feelings now, and would likely sour their entire relationship in Bilbo’s mind, even the happy memories in the middle.

Thorin would not do that to him.

Bilbo looks as if it is him slowly bleeding out on the ice and Thorin is sorry for that too. He tries to keep the pain from his face and voice, to spare Bilbo the violence that can come with death. The hobbit dislikes violence, Thorin knows. No doubt the gore and Thorin are making him uncomfortable.

“No, you- you’re not going anywhere, Thorin.” Bilbo says, hands pressing to Thorin’s stomach. He sounds desperate and Thorin wonders if maybe his death will sadden Bilbo after all, despite all that’s happened between them. Perhaps their friendship would have survived his actions at the gate. “You’re going to live.”

_You’re amazing_ , Thorin wants to tell him, because truly, Bilbo is. Thorin knows with certainty that there is no creature on the planet as wondrous as Bilbo Baggins.

He chooses his words carefully, wanting to make it clear how valued Bilbo was to him. That, at least, he could do. He could try to repair what he’d ruined.

“I would take back my words and deeds at the gate. You did what only a true friend would do. Forgive me.” His voice is not desperate, because Thorin does not want Bilbo to feel trapped or guilty if he should wish to refuse. But there is a part of himself that knows he will be unable to take any joy from Mahal’s Hall if he should part from Bilbo with hatred for him still in the hobbit’s heart. “I was too blind to see it. I am so sorry,” he pauses, unsure what to say that could encompass all he had to apologize for. “That I led you into such peril.”

It is inadequate and he knows it as soon as the words leave his mouth. There is so much more that he is sorry for but if Thorin wishes to spare Bilbo the truth ( _I’m sorry I never told you I loved you because you deserve to know that someone did, even if I’m not a hobbit, even if I’m not worth a tenth of you, someone loved you and would have settled down with you_ ) then this, he feels, is safe to say. Anything else and his own resolve would break.

“No. I’m- I’m glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them.” The words are significant and Thorin clings to them even as his mind begins to fade and the pain dulls. “It is far more than any Baggins deserves.”

There is the forgiveness he so desperately needed and feeling Bilbo beside him, leaning over him, Thorin does feel content now. It would not be so bad to leave this world if he could leave the hobbit in friendship, hopefully with some fond memories to look back on.

“Farewell... master burglar.” He would not take the liberty of saying Bilbo’s name, though he desperately wishes to. He has lost that right, lost that privilege and he knows it. Using Bilbo’s name now would be an insult to them both.

As he speaks his words slow and the pain comes back, this time from wounds both physical and not. Many self-inflicted by his own actions.

But he forces them out, needing to say it. To let Bilbo knows that Thorin did listen to him, he did care. He wants Bilbo to be happy and, to erase any guilt the hobbit might misguidedly feel. (For Thorin does know Bilbo and knows he is not the only one who likes to blame himself for all that goes wrong.) Thorin tries to give his blessing so Bilbo does not feel trapped here in this place that has caused the hobbit so much misery. “Go back to your books... and your armchair. Plant your trees, watch them grow. If more people... valued home... above gold... this world would be a merrier place.”

He gasps in pain and the last thing he hears is Bilbo begging. “No! No no no no no, _Thorin_. Don't you dare.”

But even that sounds distant and far away and Thorin watches the eagles swoop overhead, feeling himself slip away.

He almost wishes that the eagles could save him as they did before, as Bilbo and Gandalf did before on the Carrock, but even that takes too much strength and the last thing Thorin sees is Bilbo’s eyes filled with tears, heartbreak in his face.

And no- no, that is exactly what he’d been wanting to avoid. He’d been trying to make it easier on Bilbo, not harder!

But all thought is leaving Thorin now, and he only feels the regret come back for a moment. He cannot hear and cannot see anything and the last thing he knows is this.

It is not so bad, Thorin thinks selfishly, to die in the arms of the One you love.

oooOOOooo

It takes Bilbo several days to force himself back into the mountain. The only reason he goes in at all is because that is where Kíli, Fíli and Thorin are being buried and he would not be so cowardly as to run away and not pay his respects.

When Gandalf finds him beside Thorin’s dead body all Bilbo could do was look up helplessly. Dwalin is with the wizard and the broken expression on the warrior’s face would have been too much for Bilbo to handle if Thorin’s death had not already taken any feeling from him at all.

Sobs come from Dwalin and the dwarf moves forward to fall beside his King’s body as Bilbo hurriedly scrambles away, suddenly needing distance. He makes it to a nearby set of steps, with Dwalin and Thorin still in sight. He watches numbly as Gandalf goes to stand beside the prone body, murmuring some words and bowing his head.

Eventually the wizard comes over to sit beside him and Bilbo- Bilbo feels blank. He had cried until no tears remained and now all he had was a hollow and useless feeling in his chest. Something was lost, something was taken from him, and Bilbo was bereft.

His friend makes a show of lighting his pipe though and it’s so- it’s so exasperatingly comforting that Bilbo can’t help but feel the corner of his mouth twitch when he meets Gandalf’s eyes. It’s not in humor, or because he’s happy, because he’s not. But the reaction is something he can’t control and even though it’s not a smile, it’s half way to one.

I’ll be okay, he tries to let the wizard know. I will.

Gandalf smiles briefly, eyes loaded with loss, and Bilbo knows he understands.

He will be okay, he tells himself, because he forces himself to be okay.

The others show up, somehow knowing exactly where to come, and Bilbo watches. He has no tears left to force back as his friends all kneel on the ice, comforting one another in their grief.

Even through everything they’ve done together, Bilbo knows this moment- it’s not for him. He couldn’t partake in it, even if he wanted to. His grief for Thorin is his own unclimbable mountain, something that will always be present and never overcome. He must leave this to the others and deal with his alone.

Gandalf has tears in his eyes and that makes Bilbo irrationally angry. Had it not been the wizard who pushed Thorin to come here and start this business? Hadn’t it been Gandalf who orchestrated this entire thing?

But the anger fades as quickly as it comes and Bilbo shakes himself. He feels exhausted, too tired to even feel angry for long. Much too tired to grieve.

It is all being pushed away, pushed back. It’s a dangerous thing to do, he knows. He’s seen hobbits throw themselves into work after losing a loved one and he knows it always catches up with them eventually. The longer he holds everything at bay, the harder it will crush him.

But it is too much. So his eyes stay dry. The sobs stuck in his throat are stubbornly and painfully swallowed down.

Gandalf gets up first and Bilbo realizes the other dwarves have come to stand in front of the two of them. All of them are looking at Bilbo and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Come on now, laddie.” Balin is there at his side, grabbing his elbow to gently make him stand up. Bilbo’s legs give out, ridiculously, and it is only because Glóin is quick to catch him that he doesn’t fall.

“He’s taken a nasty hit to the head,” Gandalf murmurs and Bilbo looks over, confused that the wizard is talking about him like he’s not there.

“I suspect that’s not all it is,” Óin replies and a loaded silence fall over them all again.

“Fíli and Kíli,” Bilbo says blearily, eyes unable to look away from Thorin, who is still just lying there. Forgotten and left behind while they all crowd around together “They-“

“We’ll get them.” Bofur says, moving forward to take his other elbow and work with Balin to hold Bilbo up. “Don’t worry, Bilbo.”

“Worry?” Bilbo says humorlessly. “What’s left to worry over?”

The others exchange worried looks. “Bilbo-“

He flinches, his name in a dwarf’s mouth almost like a physical blow because it’s not- it’s the wrong dwarf.

Dori stops speaking as soon as he sees the reaction.

“Come now, Bilbo.” Gandalf says suddenly, voice strong and demanding. When Bilbo looks up at him the wizard looks down at him without pity.

Hypocrite. Bilbo wants to say. I heard you, I saw you. You’re as sad as the rest of us.

It suddenly hits Bilbo that Gandalf has been through this countless times. The wizard has lived too long, seen too much and is too wise not to have suffered grief.

Bilbo shakes his head, forcing his legs to bear his weight as he slumps forward. If Gandalf can survive all that he has and still survive this, then Bilbo can as well.

“Right.” He pulls his arms gently and Balin and Bofur release him. “Right then.” He straightens his shirt, feeling the mithril shift under his fingers and he resolutely ignores the feelings that rise at the reminder of the metal shirt. “What next?”

There is alarm on some of the dwarves’ faces, but most of them are too lost in their own grief to be able to handle Bilbo’s.

He is grateful. He’s fine. He will be fine.

They trickle down the mountain slowly. Nori and Ori are carrying Fíli. Dori and Bofur have Kíli (and oh, Yvanna, Kíli, Bilbo hadn’t been sure- he hadn’t seen him fall).

Dwalin and Glóin are carrying Thorin at the front and Bilbo trails at the back of their party, keeping enough distance that he can almost convince himself the two dwarves aren’t holding anything at all.

The dwarves from the Iron Hills bow as they pass and Bilbo even sees Thranduil watching them with something almost like grief in his eyes. It could be for the fallen elves that litter the ground but Bilbo watches as the Elven King closes his eyes and bows his head, unseen by anybody else, before he turns back to caring for the hurt.

He breaks off from their procession to go and stand by Bard, who is standing beside Beorn.

“Bilbo.” Bard nods at him. “I am glad to see you’re well.”

Bilbo doesn’t bother correcting him, knowing it would sound ungrateful. “You as well.”

The man’s eyes shoot from Bilbo to the dwarves of the Company. “You are not staying with them?”

Bilbo swallows. He knows he cannot go in that mountain. He was banished, and though he supposes that was rescinded in Thorin’s final moments, he still doesn’t want to go in.

That mountain holds more bitter memories for Bilbo than good ones. He will keep his distance for now.

“I would help with the wounded,” Bilbo says to Bard.

The human hesitates only a second before nodding. “Aye, we need all the help we can get.”

“Come with me, little one.” Beorn says to him. “We shall work together, yes?”

Bilbo sees no reason to argue. He spends the next several days caring for the injured and the sick. He watches many people die and still Bilbo does not cry.

He suspects he shed all of his tears when the eagles came.

The others all visit, asking him to come stay in Erebor. He refuses and they don’t push, for which he’s grateful. He wonders if they know. If they know that whatever was between Thorin and him, it was something Bilbo knew he would never feel again. Something special and unique.

Dáin seems respectable enough, but a resentment lingers in Bilbo whenever the dwarf is around. It is entirely undeserved, and the dwarf has been nothing but nice and extremely respectful towards Bilbo, (he suspects the Company had given some warnings about what would happen otherwise) but there it is. Dáin has been crowned King Under the Mountain and Bilbo cannot help but feel bitter.

He finds himself working beside Thranduil once. Bilbo moves from tent to tent of wounded, not differentiating between elves, men or dwarves. He is rebandaging a leg wound of an elf when the King sweeps in.

There is no pomp to it but Bilbo stops and watches him nonetheless. Thranduil takes him in with a cold sweep of his eyes before moving to another wounded elf and making up some kind of medicine from an herb.

When the red-headed elf, the Captain of the Guard, comes in Bilbo immediately straightens. Thranduil pauses at the sight of her before he straightens and watches her approach him.

“My King.” She murmurs, head bowed.

Thranduil’s eyes flick towards Bilbo and he hastily finishes the bandage and takes a step towards the tent entrance. “I’ll go-“

“No need.” The captain murmurs, barely sparing him a glance. “This will not take long. Please,” it looks like she tries to smile, but there’s no comfort in it. The gesture is entirely empty. “See to the wounded.”

Bilbo looks at Thranduil, wondering what he should do, but the King is no longer watching him, instead he is focused solely on his subject.

Bilbo bites his lip before looking down and staying, quietly moving to the next elf and checking the arrow wound for infection.

“My lord, I came to tell you-“ The elf falters and though Bilbo is facing away from them, he can almost picture her straightening, forcing the words out. “That I am leaving.”

There is a pregnant pause before Thranduil replies. His voice is heavy but still silken. For a moment he sounds regretful. “Your banishment has been lifted, Tauriel.”

Tauriel. Bilbo frowns. Why did he know that name?

“I cannot go back.” Tauriel says and Thranduil is silent. “I- am not who I once was.”

Bilbo concentrates on the bandage, wondering why they aren’t talking in Sindarin or Quenya.

Several minutes pass in silence and Bilbo hears nothing, so maybe they are speaking in a sign language of elves. Whatever transpires between them, the silence ends.

“I will not force you.” Thranduil says finally. “You are free to do as you wish.”

There is a breath of relief. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Though you will miss the funerals.”

Thranduil’s words make Bilbo flinch.

Tauriel’s voice is empty as she replies. “I have said all I can. The dead do not hear our words. And I cannot…”

She trails off and Thranduil fills the silence. “Very well.”

Footsteps sound and Bilbo turns to see Tauriel leaving before Thranduil’s voice cuts through the silence. “Do you know where you’ll go?”

Pain, deep and raw flashes across her face before she turns to face the King once more. She is gripping something tight in her hand and as Bilbo watches she slips the dark and smooth stone into her pocket. “No.”

Bilbo almost gasps. He knows that stone. He hadn’t dared to read it, knowing better than to tempt fate, but Kíli had showed it to him quickly when Bilbo had caught him fiddling with it once.

He looks at Tauriel with wide eyes but she doesn’t seem to notice. Thranduil does however.

“Should you ever wish to return you may,” he tells her, looking away from Bilbo. “I wish you the best.”

“Thank you.” The reply is halting but the next two words are softer. “My King.”

And then she is gone.

Bilbo hurriedly shakes his head and returns to wrapping and unwrapping bandages, administering poultices and making the sleeping or unconscious elves drink something.

“She loved him.” Thranduil says it suddenly, not looking at Bilbo. “The young one in your party.”

Bilbo is so full of grief it almost chokes him. “Yes.” He replies. “He- spoke of her. He loved her as well.”

Bilbo had been so shocked when Kíli had first mentioned the elf he’d spent nights talking to in Mirkwood. He hadn’t seen any of it of course, too busy trying to find a way for all of them to escape, but the way Kíli spoke of her, the fascination in his voice, it had sounded so real.

The dwarf had shown Bilbo the stone, telling him of the curse upon it during a quiet moment between them in Erebor. “If any but a dwarf reads the runes…”

Bilbo had hurriedly looked away, conscientiously keeping his eyes well above where the stone was being held.

Kíli had laughed at him. “She read it,” he had confided in Bilbo. “She’s fearless.”

Bilbo swallows again, wrenching himself from the memories.

The King turns his head to look at him, eyes assessing but unaware of Bilbo’s thoughts. “It is rare that I am surprised,” he admits to Bilbo after a few moments, turning back to his patient. “But that- it surprised me.”

Anger comes so suddenly Bilbo can’t hold it back and he stands up straighter, meeting the King’s eyes without fear. “Why?” He demands of Thranduil. “Because they weren’t the same species? You haven’t seen that before in your long life?”

He had been surprised at hearing that once too, Bilbo remembered. He’d never heard of a hobbit marrying anything but another hobbit, but dwarves seemed to be different.

He squeezes his eyes shut, scrubbing at his face wearily. He’s upset, extremely. This whole conversation, everything with Kíli and Tauriel, it was all too much. After everything, all of the death, this was too much pain.

Thranduil doesn’t get angry in return, instead he barely falters before continuing to unwind the fresh bandages on his arm to apply them to another elf’s wound. “No, I have.” He murmured. “Though never an elf and a dwarf, I will admit. But I had always thought she harbored feelings for my son. And I had not thought it possible for a dwarf…”

Bilbo doesn’t say anything.

“Your entire Company surprised me,” the King went on. “You most of all, but also the King. I have never heard of someone overcoming dragon sickness before.”

Bilbo clears his throat. “Yes, well. He was quite formidable.”

Something in his tone makes Thranduil stop and eye him curiously. Bilbo turns back to his work before awareness dawns on the elf’s face.

“Yes,” the King murmurs. “He was indeed.”

They don’t speak again and Bilbo hurriedly finishes, uncomfortable with the silence and the ancient eyes of the King who suddenly doesn’t seem deadly and cold, only old. Old and tired of watching everyone rush towards their own deaths and destruction.

The dwarves come to visit Bilbo alone or in pairs, and he sits down for meals with them but refuses to go back through those gates. When Balin appears, four days after the battle, it is not to try and convince him to come and see Erebor. The old dwarf understands, Bilbo thinks. He knows Bilbo didn’t come on this quest to see the mountain returned to it’s glory or the treasure in it.  

“The funerals are today.” The old dwarf says, grief etched in ever line of his face. “You’ll regret not coming to them, lad.”

Bilbo knows he’s right, so he follows him.

He hesitates at the gates, looking up at the rampart, and Balin follows his gaze.

“He regretted it,” Balin says to him, eyes searching Bilbo’s. “He cared for you, Bilbo. You were very dear to him.”

Bilbo blinks, pushing away the sting in his eyes as he forces himself to keep moving. “We can’t be late,” he mutters and Balin does not try to say anything more.

There are no smiles from the others when he comes to stand with them, only understanding, and Bilbo feels like all of the air has been ripped from his lungs.

It is suffocating inside that mountain.

They are awarded places of honour in the funeral, he’s told. Standing in the front, allowed to wander between the laid out corpses of the royals and murmur their own goodbyes privately while others watch.

Bilbo opens his mouth, meaning to say something, but he finds no words come to mind.

He has nothing left to say. Admitting anything Thorin did not already know would break Bilbo to admit now. He would break down in the middle of this funeral and likely have to be led away, and he does not want that. It’s already hard enough to hold back his sobs and the tears in his eyes.

Instead he stays quiet, watching everything with his mouth firmly shut. He doesn’t look away from Thorin, Kíli and Fíli the entire time so he sees Bard hesitate while looking over Thorin, murmuring something nobody can hear. He watches Thranduil move between the dead dwarves, lingering finally at Kíli and his lips move as well, though Bilbo can’t make out what it is he says.

He ignores Dáin being crowned after and only hears Gandalf’s words through a muted haze. He does not bow with the others, for this is not his king. Bard, Thranduil and his guard, Gandalf and Bilbo are the only ones who do not.

All he sees is Thorin’s hands cupped around the Arkenstone as he’s laid to rest with his nephews, his hair neat and spread on the stone beneath him. Eyes closed with his face peaceful in death.

Bilbo feels sick.

Bofur grabs one of his hands and instead of pulling away Bilbo welcomes it. When Bombur grabs the other he squeezes them both, trying to convey without words how grateful he is.

He does not cry. He is the only one in the Company who doesn’t.

oooOOOooo

Bilbo leaves Erebor the next day, after a quick wander to Thorin’s old chambers, which are being refitted for Dáin’s family, and the royal library. He barely manages five steps into the room of books before he turns on his heel and walks right back out again.

Gandalf has agreed to go with him and after a hard goodbye at the gates of Erebor, Bilbo is on his way back home.

He is going home with more than he left with, of that there is no doubt. One small chest of gold and another of silver weigh down his poor pony, along with food, new clothing, his sword and a couple of carved wooden figurines from Bofur and Bifur. It is far less than a fourteenth share of all the treasure in Erebor, even after the elves had been given their gems and Dale their gold, but it is enough for Bilbo. The Arkenstone had stood as the majority of his claim and he wants no part of that gem. He doubts he’ll use even the coins in his lifetime.

Bilbo is still wearing his mithril shirt. He has not let it out of sight since he’d been given it and perhaps it had been selfish but he had not asked the dwarves whether they wanted it back.

( _“A token of our friendship.”_ )

Bilbo escapes with it, feeling like a thief even though it had been a gift and the dwarves hadn’t mentioned it once.

Two chests of coins, the shirt of mithril, his sword, wooden figures from his friends, the contract that started this whole business and the map they’d followed this entire journey. These are what he brings back with him.

He and Gandalf say goodbye to King Bard and King Thranduil. Both bow their heads to Bilbo and he shifts uncomfortably, bowing his head back at them. They had fought alongside the dwarves in the end, and Bilbo will forever be grateful to them for that at least. All of the rest would have to be forgotten.

He leaves with the title of elf-friend and an open invitation from Bard to return and visit Dale. Bilbo knows he won’t but he forces a nod and a small smile and accepts anyway.

Gandalf is pleasant company on the ride home. Extremely handy when they are accosted by small groups of goblins or men aiming to steal from them, seeing they come from the mountain. Bilbo is never afraid this time. He’s faced down a dragon and watched people dearest to him die.

There is nothing left to be afraid of, and if there was, goblins and men would rank far down on the list.

The wizard is good for keeping up chatter and Bilbo appreciates that. He doesn’t hear half of what Gandalf says but that’s alright. It’s comforting to just have somebody with him and he is occasionally drawn out of his thoughts and into conversation.

It’s a pleasant trip, and much shorter than the one it took to get to Erebor. They stop at Beorn’s again, and Rivendell, and each time Bilbo is treated with pitying looks that he ignores. At Beorn’s he spends his time out in the garden while the skin changer talks to Gandalf. At Rivendell he coops himself up in the library and decides while he’s there to try and learn Sindarin.

Tracking down his auctioned items when he gets back to the Shire is a pain, but it keeps him busy, it keeps him moving and distracted from his empty home with it’s empty rooms so there is that.

It is only after he has reclaimed all of his belongings, put things back just as they were when he left, and filled his pantry to the brim that Bilbo finally stops.

It’s when he’s finished making dinner of all things that everything finally sinks in. He hasn’t had a chance to actually sit down with a nice meal since being back, always on the move, and he’d cooked up quite the dinner too. He hadn’t had a proper hobbit dinner in ages and there was still supper later to look forward to.

When he actually sits down he’s in his night gown and it’s dark outside. He’s spreading salt over his pork when he just freezes.

Because it hits him suddenly, that 30 months ago Dwalin would have been knocking on his door right about now. Balin would follow, and then Fíli and Kíli and the rest of the party bar one would tumble in shortly after.

He looks around, remembering the dwarves cooking and messing up his kitchen. Flinging plates around, singing songs and generally causing a ruckus that left Bilbo very distressed.

It’s a sudden thing, the grief that crashes through the hobbit, but it’s powerful. His stomach hurts, nausea rolls through him and his eyes prickle with tears so quickly he blinks and they fall down his cheeks.

He can’t stop it from there. Great big sobs that wrack his whole frame and choke him make Bilbo push away from the table and the meal that waits. He tries to regain his breath but there’s too much trying to push it’s way out of him and he can’t. So he cries in great gasps, moving haphazardly to his bedroom (newly dusted and cleaned) and collapses into his bed, curling up pathetically.

He tries not to think, but it’s impossible. He remembers perfectly the dwarves teasing and joking with one another as they dish out their meal. Fíli and Kíli and Ori had been looking around in wonder and excitement. Gandalf watching them all with contentment and hope in his eyes.

And then around supper time Thorin had knocked and Bilbo had answered the door and-

He curls up tighter, still crying.

( _“I wish to part from you in friendship.”_ )

It is too much, all of it too much. He is too small to hold so much pain and too young to be left so alone.

( _“It is forbidden for a dwarf to teach our language to any outside our race. If one were to learn for themselves however…”_ )

There are no warm bodies lying beside him now and Bilbo wonders how long it will take for him to get used to sleeping alone again. Wonders if he’ll ever get used to it.

( _“You are… a wondrous creature.” “Do not think I do not know all you have done for us.” “I’m glad you’re with us, Bilbo.” “I have never been so wrong in all my life.” “Sometimes I want it more than Erebor.”_ )

( _“I understand.” “Do you?”_ )

“ _Oh, Bilbo_.” The voice is too faint to be anything but a memory, yet it sounds so real the hobbit’s eyes fly open and he goes quiet listening for Thorin’s voice. “ _I am so sorry,_ sanâzyung.”

Bilbo weeps until he cannot and then he just stays where he is, all of the memories crashing over him.

Finally, his body and mind are exhausted. There are no more tears and every memory, the good and the bad, has been relived. It is well past midnight, closer to dawn than dusk and he is lying limply on his bed, mind blank.

Bilbo gets up anyway, moving to his travel jerkin to dig around in it’s pockets. He pulls out the acorn and grabs his gardening tools and fills a watering can and makes his way outside.

It is not the same acorn as before. He had left that in Dale, during the battle. This was a new one, freshly picked up from Beorn’s the second time Bilbo and Gandalf had visited when they were coming home.

This acorn had not seen any of the good or the bad. It was new and innocent.

Bilbo planted it in the middle of the night, using the light of the moon to map out a space in the middle of a freshly weeded patch of dirt near the edge of his backyard. It didn’t take long but he found himself just sitting and staring at the soil after.

This tree would grow. It would be strong and healthy, and it would be a reminder of the bad, that was true, but also the good. There were many good memories and Bilbo decided that those were the ones he would cling to. That was what he would remember when he looked at this tree and cared for it.

It was a new beginning, Bilbo thought to himself and nodded. He would be a part of it.

A fresh start.

oooOOOooo

Afterwards Bilbo goes on, as he must, for there is no other choice left to him.

He tends to stay inside of Bag-End, hidden away from the Shire and everyone in it. It’s impossible to go back to how things used to be and he would rather be judged for being unsocial than judged for his grief.

He imagines things sometimes, in the most random of moments. When things are quiet and he is caught up in memory with grief etched in his features, he finds himself hearing Thorin’s voice. Which is impossible, and he would chalk it up to memory if it wasn’t for the fact that he is sure he had never heard Thorin say these things before.

“ _Ghivashel_ ,” is a popular word. So is “ _Kurdel_.” He hears “ _hôfukel_ ,” and “ _Uzfakuh_.” Once, when sitting dozing in his armchair, a forgotten book sliding down his chest, he hears “ _lansel_.”

And at night sometimes when he is just drifting off to sleep, he hears, “ _Men lananubukhs me_.”

He doesn’t think he’s going crazy but he’s not sure what else it could be. Bilbo has never known a loss like this one, he isn’t sure what counts as normal. Perhaps he’s making up words in Khuzdul to cope, though he doesn’t see how it’s helping.

Putting pen to paper seems to help, and he finds himself reading a multitude of books and learning languages as quickly as he can, just to distract his mind. He quickly takes to Sindarin and even manages to learn Quenya.

Khuzdul is avoided.

There are no books in that language available anywhere but in a stronghold of dwarves, of which there are none near the Shire. Erebor’s library had many books, and though he had not had time to learn all of the language, trying to do so again would be too painful.

Besides, the dwarves prefer to keep their secrets. Despite being a dwarf-friend, Bilbo finds he does not feel as close of kinsman ship to them as he once did. Their language is no longer his to learn despite an old blessing that technically allows him to do so. There’s also no real reason for him to learn it anymore; perhaps once upon a time when there had been a possibility of him being surrounded by dwarves for his entire life, but there are very scarcely any dwarves in the Shire.

No, instead Bilbo reads and he writes. First poetry, happy and reflective of all the wondrous places and things he had seen, and then songs. Soon he is making up short stories, a hobby that is only encouraged once Frodo arrives.

He tends his garden and still takes pride in his tomato plants. There is always an empty space in the greenery that draws his eye, towards the edge of his backyard. One big enough for an acorn tree, had it ever been allowed to grow.

When Frodo comes Bilbo finds himself more grounded than he had been in a while. Somebody was dependent on him and for that Bilbo could drag himself out of his own thoughts and memories and actually be present again.

Frodo helps heal him, perhaps unknowingly, but there is always that part of Bilbo that remains irreparably lost forever. A part of himself he had not known he had even given away.

One night, close to a year after Frodo arrives, Bilbo plants the acorn again. This time he allows it to stay planted for more than one night. Within the year there is a sapling and when Bilbo leaves the Shire 50 years later it is much taller than him.

Balin is the first one of the dwarves Bilbo ever sees again. Ori writes him occasionally, as does Bofur, but those letters have gotten rarer over the years. When Bilbo sees Balin it’s a welcome surprise.

The dwarf stops in on his way back from the Blue Mountains and confides in Bilbo that he has plans to retake Moria if he can put together a group of allies.

Bilbo frowns, trying to advise caution, but Balin is too determined to be swayed. He is restless and Bilbo suspects a part of the dwarf needs an escape from Erebor.

He can understand that. Erebor had been full of too much pain and too many ghosts for Bilbo to even stay there a month, never mind over twenty years.

“You could come with us, laddie.” Balin says once he’s leaving after an afternoon of food and tea. “Durin knows you’re a good person to have on a quest.”

The hobbit shakes his head, ignoring a small part of himself that yearns to go. “I have Frodo now.” He reminds Balin, who had been plied with stories of the young hobbit all day. Bilbo was a very proud uncle. “I can’t, though I wish you well, old friend.”

Balin’s look is entirely too understanding for Bilbo’s taste, which is perhaps another reason he has declined the adventure. Nobody else in the Shire remembered a dwarf named Thorin Oakenshield had even existed or what he had meant to Bilbo, which allows him to keep his own memories distant. Being with Balin and the others would bring it all too close again.

“Thought I’d offer anyway.” Balin says finally, and Bilbo nods before returning the dwarf’s hug. “Farewell, Bilbo Baggins. I hope to see you again but if I do not…”

The old dwarf trails off and Bilbo nods into his chest, pulling away with a forced smile on his face. “You too, Balin. Say hello to the others for me. Good luck.”

His friend smiles, nods once more, and then hoists his pack onto his shoulder and leaves Bag-End and the Shire for the last time.

Gandalf stops by every so often, and Bilbo finds himself looking forward to seeing his old friend again despite the pain their conversations sometimes cause. The wizard is an excellent source of information (gossip) and as he updates Bilbo on Thranduil’s latest meeting with Dáin Ironfoot, King Under the Mountain, Bilbo can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, that old and stubborn elf.” He shakes his head and as he does grey hair falls to get in his eyes. He wipes it away impatiently. “Do you remember when he…”

The two of them reminisce more than anything else, but somehow it is less painful with Gandalf than it is when he’s alone or with anyone else. Perhaps it is because the wizard has been alive long enough to know which topics are bearable and which are not to the grieving; perhaps it is just his friend’s tact. No matter what it is, Bilbo appreciates it, and he appreciates that Gandalf still stops by at all, seeing as he’s sure there are other important matters to attend to in the world.

Frodo in particular is always ecstatic when the wizard arrives and Bilbo encourages the friendship. Knowing Gandalf the Grey can help get a person out of a tricky situation or two, as Bilbo knows all too well.

Before Bilbo realizes it, he has begun writing down his tale with the wizard and the dwarves and their king. At first it is painful, and there are many things Bilbo leaves out, too personal to share, even with Frodo. But soon it is done and just in time too, for it’s his birthday.

Gandalf knocks just as he closes his newly finished book and Bilbo smiles at the sound of his friend’s voice. It’s a sign, he’s sure.

His party goes off perfectly, just as Bilbo wanted, and though he ponders keeping the ring- _what will Frodo do with it anyhow? Much better to stay in Bilbo’s pocket_ \- he can’t deny the relief that overwhelms him when he leaves it on the mantle and leaves under Gandalf’s watchful eye.

Somehow, he feels lighter without it. Strange, seeing as how it barely weighs a thing.

Only Gandalf knows of his plans to go to Rivendell and when he arrives there he is touched again by it’s beauty and elegance. Even the dwarves, despite their mistrust of elves and the enmity between the two races, had been unable to deny the place’s magnificence all those years ago.

His journey to the elf stronghold had weakened him greatly however. Bilbo’s been feeling his age as of late, keener with each day that passes after he leaves the Shire. At Rivendell he decides enough is enough. He has always wanted to return here, it seems a fitting place to finally grow old and rest.

That is until Frodo and his companions gather to form the Fellowship of the Ring. Gollum’s ring, Bilbo’s ring, the little and innocent looking piece of gold that had resided in his pocket for years.

Sauron’s Ring.

He had not known, but hearing Lord Elrond, Gandalf and a Ranger discuss the topic so seriously makes him realize just what he’d been harboring all these years.

For a desperate and fragile moment, he wants Thorin. It is the first time in years he has truly allowed himself to miss the dwarf and yearn for him, the first time he has allowed the memories to wrap their fingers around him and squeeze, so tightly he gasps from the pain.

However, Thorin is not here. Has not been here all this time. Instead there is only Bilbo, left alone under the crushing guilt of what he has done to Frodo.

One person who is there however is Glóin. Glóinis at the meeting because his son, Gimli, is to accompany Frodo and for that Bilbo is both grateful and sorry.

The dwarf comes up to him after everything has been decided and Bilbo is pulled into a hug before he even has the chance to say hello.

They talk until nightfall, with Bilbo confessing how the ring had come to him in the first place, with Glóin surprised at the fact that this ring was the same one that had ensured their Company’s survival all those years ago. The first part of their conversation is joined by others from the meeting, wanting to know what the Ring had done and how it had come to Frodo.

Once Bilbo’s tale had been told they had all gone to supper, Glóinstaying close to him.

Then they discussed the others. Dwalin was head of Erebor’s guard and had settled down with a dwarrowdam and had three children. Bofur and Bombur were happy enough keeping themselves busy. Bombur’s family was a main source of amusement for all of the Company. Bifur was as well as ever, Óin and Dori had found positions in Erebor and seemed quite content.

Balin, Nori and Ori had not been heard of since they’d reached Moria. Some were clinging to hope but most had accepted long ago that they were not likely to be heard from again.

Bilbo accepted the words silently, sharing a grief-laden look with his old friend.

Glóin apologizes for not keeping in touch but Bilbo waves him off. He hadn’t expected any of the dwarves to come visit him, truly he hadn’t. And it wasn’t as if he’d been sending them letters either.

But almost three years of travelling together bonds people, and even after many more years of silence between them Bilbo finds a comfortable silence settle over them both. He’d always liked Glóin. The dwarf was blunt and to the point, a terrific warrior with axes and easy company. He’s never been one to pry but once he and Bilbo had gotten comfortable with one another they’d had an easy companionship. The trust of knowing someone had your back seemed to never go away and Bilbo takes the pipe Glóin offers him and has a drag, eve though it’s ghastly dwarvish pipe weed that makes his nose wrinkle in slight distaste.

He’d forgotten the taste of dwarvish pipe weed. Old Took had always been his flavour of choice, and the hobbits grew the best pipe weed around anyhow.

“Did Thorin know?” Glóin asks him eventually, making him look away from his smoke ring to dwarf. There are two things the dwarf could be talking about. One sets Bilbo’s heart racing.

They are in Bilbo’s room. The four young hobbits of the Fellowship were out exploring the castle. Gimli was apparently bathing and Boromir and Aragorn were still making plans with Gandalf and the elves. For now, at least, they are alone.

Bilbo doesn’t answer until Glóin clarifies. “About the ring.”

The hobbit sighs and shakes his head. “I didn’t even know.”

“But he never tried to-“

“Take it from me?” Bilbo asks bitterly. He’d refused to think of Thorin’s last few weeks as King since he had left Erebor. It may have led to some undealt with resentment and anger, emotions that Glóin obviously heard given the sad look in his eyes. “No. No, it was the Arkenstone that consumed him.”

Glóin looks at Bilbo steadily, eyes taking in the grey hair, the wrinkles. The way Bilbo’s fingers cracked sometimes when he flexed his hands, the stoop of his shoulders and his feet’s slow shuffle.

“I am glad you grew old, Bilbo.” The dwarf says finally, allowing himself the use of Bilbo’s first name. Given all they’d been through and all their loved ones were about to go through, Bilbo figured it was warranted. “I am glad you got to live.”

Bilbo closes his eyes and let’s out a pained sigh. “So much pain, Glóin. I’ve seen so many people hurt. And now my dear Frodo…”

Glóin nods in understanding. “It is not something I would have ever wanted for Gimli. But their cause is a noble one, perhaps the most noble of all causes. If it had been us when we were young, we would have done the same. Am I wrong?”

Bilbo swallows painfully but he cannot argue.

The two of them sit for a while longer, not speaking, just remembering or contemplating the future. Finally, Bilbo hears footsteps in the halls, meaning the rest of the palace visitors were heading to their chambers.

Glóin stands and hugs him one last time, clapping his back firmly, but gently, something Bilbo appreciates. He cannot handle the strength of dwarves as he once could.

“You will not come to Erebor with me?” The dwarf asks uselessly, already knowing Bilbo’s answer. “To say goodbye to us all, one last time?”

Bilbo shakes his head. “I cannot.”

Understanding and sorrow are etched in Glóin’s features. “Then here we part, Master Burglar. It has been an honor.”

He bows, beard falling to skim the floor, and Bilbo’s eyes well with tears suddenly.

“The honor has been mine,” he croaks, blinking quickly, and he clasps Glóin’s arm one last time before the dwarf leaves to find his son.

Frodo comes in shortly after, but thankfully by then Bilbo has had enough time to compose himself.

As he falls asleep he is angry, sad and guilty. He lies in bed regretting his words to Frodo when his nephew had shown him the ring, disappointed in his own weakness. Bilbo allows the tears from earlier to finally fall quietly, without anyone’s knowledge but his own. His heart beats painfully and he shivers, wishing once again that he had someone there to be with him, to understand and just- just hold him.

He wishes for his One, but Thorin is not there.

“ _Enough tears,_ lansel.” He can hear the dwarf’s voice, sad and gentle. “ _You must be strong for what is to come. For Frodo’s sake_.”

A sob escapes Bilbo in a gasp because it had sounded- for a second-

He sits up quickly looking around but there is nobody. The moonlight filtering into his room shows that it is empty save for him.

Bilbo nods to himself, trying to swallow the pain in his throat. He nods again, internally berating himself for even thinking, just for a moment that somehow Thorin was there watching over him. This had happened far too often and each time his heart fell further.

But this was the first time he’d heard the voice at Rivendell and it had been so _clear_ -

“Stupid.” He mutters to himself. “When did I get so fanciful? People already think I’m crazy without me hearing the voice of ghosts too.”

He turns away to face the wall, burying himself back under the blankets and resolutely shutting is eyes. The tears have stopped and his labored breathing slowly calms.

Before he falls asleep it feels as if there is a hand running over his hair gently, tracing down his cheek to cup beneath his chin. But Bilbo is half-asleep at the time, too exhausted from the events of the day to bring himself to care.

oooOOOooo

In his time at Rivendell Bilbo grows close to Arwen and Lord Elrond. He resolutely does not allow himself to become so emotional again, despite the elves knowing looks and tact as they bring up the subject of his past adventures.

It seems he has not been so good at keeping things hidden as he had thought. No matter. Just because certain beings thought they knew certain things does not mean Bilbo has to prove them right. His grief and heartache are for him alone and besides; there are much more worrisome things to think of.

When most of the elves leave for the battle Bilbo feels especially useless. He knows Frodo has his shirt of mithril, which is reassuring, but it does not ensure survival. He spends his time fretting, too worried and too old to be of much use in defense preparations, and he finds himself largely left alone.

Lord Elrond sends a raven to Rivendell to tell the news of their victory. Sauron and his Ring have finally been defeated. Frodo and the hobbits are fine, the King of Gondor has taken his rightful place and the orcs that are left have scattered. Thranduil has helped defend the north and though there were casualties they were far fewer than many expected.

They have won.

Bilbo’s knees actually give out and the elves around him and their quick reflexes are the only reason he did not crumple to the ground. He has grown even weaker, aging faster than ever thanks to the Ring’s absence.

He suspects he does not have long in this world. Truly it has only been his stubbornness to hear of Sauron’s defeat that have kept him so active even now.

Before the month is over Frodo and the others have returned to Rivendell. Bilbo sees the haunted look in Frodo’s eye, the look of someone who has lost something with no hope of ever getting it back and he wishes he had not. There are already too many griefs in his heart. Frodo’s loss of innocence is almost too much to bear.

Several years pass and his mind really does begin to wander. It becomes easier to remember his early years than it is for him to remember the day before. The years after Frodo arrives at Bag-End are the ones that blur and slip away. Sometimes he even forgets his nephew’s adventure altogether.

Lady Galadriel comes to Rivendell and it is in that visit that Bilbo learns the elves are leaving Middle-Earth forever. 

“You could come with us.” Lord Elrond says to Bilbo, eyes kind. “Arwen has given up her place. We would invite you to come in her stead.”

Bilbo’s eyes widen and surprise freezes him for a moment. When he looks over at Gandalf he sees the wizard speechless for the first time in his life as well. “Me?”

The Lady smiles, bowing her head. “We would have no other.”

His first instinct is to say no. Leaving the Shire at the young age of 50 may not have been as difficult as Bilbo had thought but leaving Middle-Earth altogether when he was over twice that? What about…

“I cannot.” He says sadly. “I will not leave, Frodo.”

No matter that Frodo resided in the Shire and Bilbo in Rivendell. Leaving the boy here would be too much loss, Bilbo fears. There is a breaking point for everyone, and if Bilbo left Frodo in this world, which already holds so much pain for them both, then he suspects his nephew would not survive it.

“But of course he can come as well.” Lady Galadriel says kindly, eyes shining with warmth and earnestness. “If there are any who deserve to journey to the Undying Lands it is you and Frodo, _mellon_.”

Bilbo looks off into the distance, listening to the river and thinking of everything he loves in Middle-Earth. Everything he would be missing.

Thorin’s face flashes through his mind quickly, making him hesitate.

‘ _He would not begrudge you your happiness, dear Bilbo._ ’ The Lady’s voice sounds in his mind and he listens to her closely. ‘ _You will not be leaving him_. _His memory will live on in you no matter where you are._ ’

Bilbo swallows and nods.

“I would be honored.” He answers and his friends smile at him radiantly.

He pens letters to the remaining dwarves in Erebor, hoping they will understand and not look at this as a sign of betrayal. Relations between dwarves and elves may have improved since the battle of the Ring (no small thanks to Gimli and Legolas, bless the besotted pair of them) but Bilbo knows his dwarves. Leaving to go to the Undying Lands with elves after refusing to visit Erebor for the rest of his life may not be taken kindly. He hopes they will forgive him.

“ _Do not worry yourself,_ amrâlimê _. Knowing you are moving on is all they wish for.”_

Bilbo smiles at the sound of Thorin. He had decided years past that the voice must be a figment of his imagination and had long ago decided to enjoy it. It had popped up more and more often as Bilbo’s mind grew more confused. “You say that now but just wait until Dwalin hears of where I go. You forget that _Thranduil_ is waiting there.”

A faint laugh reaches his ears, the rumbling tones still easy to pick out.

After he sends the letters away he writes quickly to Frodo, asking him to come and if not, then to at least see him off. He could not bear never seeing his nephew again.

The reply arrives four days later. Three words saying, _I will come_.

Bilbo mourns his nephew’s younger days. Before Frodo would never have left the Shire, his beloved home. Now the place only seems to hold more sadness for him.

It is as his Frodo wrote in the last pages of their book. There are some hurts that go too deep, some wounds that time cannot mend.

Bilbo understands.

The journey is swift and it is not long before they are arriving. When Bilbo steps out onto the beach of the Undying Lands he finds his appearance has changed and that, for all he can see, he is a middle-aged hobbit once more.

Frodo’s eyes widen at the sight and a smile actually breaks out on his face. “Uncle Bilbo!”

Bilbo laughs and pats himself down to double-check. “Ah, look at me, dear boy! All ready for another adventure once again. I feel in my prime.”

“You have reverted back to the way that you were at your happiest.” Gandalf answers their unspoken question and Bilbo has to blink at him because he is no longer the White Wizard, but Gandalf the Grey once more. The wizard looks at him affectionately. “As have we all.”

Frodo raises his hands, seeing ten fingers, and he laughs, pure and clear, the first laugh Bilbo has heard from him in years.

Bilbo can’t help but look around, hoping beyond reason, and he shouldn’t be disappointed when the search reveals nothing. Dwarves do not belong in the land of elves, after all.

Time passes strangely, and Bilbo finds he sees many old faces. Sam, Gimli and Legolas arrive and Bilbo is both pleased and saddened at the sight of Gimli among elves. Perhaps dwarves were not so unwelcome here after all.

It makes Frodo happy to see his old friends.

But of course, Bilbo’s old friends do not appear. He spends what must be years waiting, hoping despite everything, but even he must admit eventually that none will come here.

There are no longer any voices in his head. He tries not to miss it but in the end he’s powerless to stop himself.

“There is a way you could go to them.” The wizard tells him one day as they are sitting overlooking the endless sea before them.

Bilbo freezes. “I beg your pardon?”

“I could take you to Mahal’s Hall.” Gandalf says, purposely looking out over the seemingly endless water. “Though you must know, you will never be able to return. It is unlikely you will ever see Frodo again.”

“Unlikely?” Bilbo repeats. “But not impossible.”

Gandalf is quiet for several minutes. “Unless the Second Song comes to pass, then no, it is impossible. And even then the chance is slim, Bilbo.”

“But not impossible.” Bilbo’s heart swells. “I could go to the dwarves?”

Gandalf inclines his head. “It is possible.”

After their conversation Bilbo finds Frodo and the disappointment on his nephew’s face is coloured with understanding.

“They’re who you’ve been searching for here aren’t they?” Frodo asks. “Your Company.”

Bilbo nods sadly. “They are.”

Their hug is hard and long-lasting. “I will miss you, Uncle.” Frodo says quietly and Bilbo almost decides to stay.

“As I will you, my dear boy.” He kisses Frodo’s forehead. “But it is not the end. We will see each other again. And until then you have my endless love.”

Frodo nods, eyes shining. “As you have mine.”

The other goodbyes are not so hard and Bilbo thinks all of them understand. Lord Elrond, Celeborn, Thranduil, Legolas and Gimli all give him bows, with the latter telling him to say hello to his kin for him. The Lady Galdriel swoops to kiss him on both cheeks, squeezing his hands in silent support. 

Sam hugs him quickly, telling him he’ll keep an eye on Frodo, for which Bilbo is grateful.

Finally, with one last hug for Frodo, Gandalf and Bilbo depart.

He does not remember the journey except for Gandalf’s presence, which Gandalf tells him is no mistake. Bilbo will not remember so that he can never find his way back, for all of the Halls of Mandos are connected.

Finally, they reach a gate. A large dwarven gate of stone embedded under a cavern. Beautiful and breath-taking to look at.

“I cannot enter. This is where I leave you, my good hobbit.”

Bilbo looks up at the wizard, his heart swelling. “Oh, Gandalf. I don’t even know what to say.”

Gandalf bows his head and his voice is earnest in the way Gandalf always gets when he’s emotional. “You have been very dear to me, Bilbo Baggins. I hope you know that.”

“Old friend!” Bilbo cries, throwing his arms around Gandalf’s legs. The wizard chuckles, though it sounds slightly tearful, and bends to pat Bilbo’s back.

“They await you.” The wizard finally says, drawing back and glancing at the door. For a moment he seems lost in memory before he turns his head to look at Bilbo. “Give my best to our friends.”

“Thank you, Gandalf.” Bilbo says in a hush, not looking away from the wizard. “For everything.”

“Until next time, old friend.” Gandalf murmurs and then he is gone as quick as Bilbo can blink.

After that there is nothing else for it. Bilbo takes in a deep breath and the huge doors open. He squares his shoulders, pats down his clothes and slowly he walks forward.

He is barely through the doorway when he’s being hit by two bodies. Two very familiar dwarf bodies that wrap themselves around him in a hug.

“You’re finally here!”

“Bilbo, you made it!”

When they pull away Kili and Fili blind him with their bright smiles, holding him at arms length and looking him up and down.

Bilbo looks at them both in wonder and it is because of this he does not notice the dwarf behind them until he places a hand on each of his nephew’s shoulder’s, pulling them away gently so that he can stand in front of Bilbo.

Thorin smiles and Bilbo cannot move. “It is good to see you, _ghivashel_.”

Bilbo takes in the deep blue eyes, full of a happiness he had never seen in them before. A lightness, unburdened by the shadow of memory and failure. The long black hair hangs past Thorin’s shoulders, combed neatly and braided. Bilbo notices with surprise that there’s still no beard on the dwarf and he makes a note to ask about that later. He is wearing plain but comfortable black clothes and Bilbo pinches himself, just to make sure this is all real.

Thorin’s smile is wider than Bilbo has ever seen and without any sadness to dampen it.

He looks so happy and Bilbo blinks at sudden moisture in his eyes. Before he knows what he’s done, he’s thrown himself at the King, leaping up to wrap his arms around Thorin’s neck and embrace him tightly.

It doesn’t even occur to him that Thorin might push him away, or to be mad at the dwarf. All of that can come later. For now they will be happy they are together again.

Thorin’s arms close around him and Bilbo’s momentum makes him stumble a step or two. A broken laugh escapes Bilbo, punctuated by happy tears, and Thorin grips him just as tightly as Bilbo is latched on to him.

“You _khuzd allâkhul_.” Bilbo says in Khuzdul and Thorin laughs happily. “Don’t you ever- do you know how much I-“

“I know, _lansel_.” Thorin whispers, the words for Bilbo alone. “I have watched over you the best I could. I am sorry.”

Bilbo nods into his neck and finally demands to be set down. He feels a bit silly now, after the initial shock and happiness wears off, since his legs are dangling uselessly in the air.

“Awe, Uncle, now you stop being so grumpy!”

“Don’t be silly Kili, that’s just Uncle’s natural state. Even Bilbo can’t change that.”

Thorin growls and Bilbo laughs as his feet touch the ground, a giddiness he hasn’t felt in ages consuming him. He looks around, taking in the magnificent hall they appear to be in.

“Bilbo.” Thorin holds out a hand, eyes sparkling as Kili and Fili grin and begin to walk towards another door Bilbo hadn’t noticed before. “There are many anxious to see you.”

Bilbo reaches out and takes the offered hand, following Thorin once more.

**Author's Note:**

> They're both so stubborn aren't they? I'm glad they finally got time together in the end and anyone who disagrees can just book it on outta here.   
> List of all the endearments in Khuzdul Thorin said to Bilbo because yes, his spirit was so looking over him thank you very much.   
> amrâlimê- “love-of-me”  
> ghivashel- ”treasure of treasure”   
> khuzd allâkhul- ”stupid dwarf”  
> lansel-”love of all loves”  
> Âzyungûn- "loved one"  
> kurdel- "heart of all hearts"  
> hôfukel– "joy of all joys"  
> Uzfakuh- "my greatest joy"  
> Men lananubukhs me– "I love you"


End file.
